


pavor nocturnus // we're the same

by thekeytoeverything



Series: Prodigal Son [1]
Category: Legacies (TV 2018), Prodigal Son (TV 2019), The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, YOU DONT NEED TO SEE OR WATCH PRODIGAL SON TO UNDERSTAND THIS AU, a few things have been changed but for the most part everything is the same, angst and yearning? YEAHHHHH, hosie is going to happen, i alluded to klefan lolllll, i also had to make hope gay panic because why the fuck not, i had to add the stares, i hope you're paying attention to all the details... :), more characters will be added later on, now y'all know why damon is part of the story, obviously everyone is well over the age of 18, your theories about this story post chapter 17 are probably wrong and that's okay bestie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 87,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeytoeverything/pseuds/thekeytoeverything
Summary: Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of peopleProfilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.A Hosie "Prodigal Son" AU.Check out Prodigal Son on FOX if you like the story!
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Series: Prodigal Son [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856695
Comments: 218
Kudos: 289





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: this au will have graphic depictions of death and murder, mental illness (specifically ptsd and everything that comes with it), serial killers, and more. Trigger warnings will be added for each chapter in detail, but for now, enjoy this chapter that doesn't have any graphic scenes.
> 
> cw / mention of serial killer and victims, mention of serial killer tasering main character, mention of main character having a flashback episode

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**_Nighttime - 2022_ **

****

Hope Mikaelson was ten years old, living in her parent’s luxurious townhouse on the Upper East Side, as she stands in the entryway. Assessing the situation with fear in her eyes, her father, Klaus Mikaelson, kneels in front of her with his hands cuffed. “Hope? Hope, listen to me.”

Klaus Mikaelson gives her his best smile as he realizes he doesn’t have much time. The sirens are loud, the light flashes projecting all around the house, the radios hiss and crack. “I want you to remember something, okay? You’re my daughter. My only daughter. I love you. I will always love you. Never forget about ‘always and forever.’ Because **_we’re the same_ **.” 

A hand begins to pull him back, the same smile still plastered on his face. Hope begins to focus on her mother, Hayley Marshall, and her aunts, Freya Mikaelson and Keelin Malraux-Mikaelson, with her baby cousin Nik. Hayley is screaming, “ _Get him out of here_ ,” while Nik can’t stop crying in Freya’s arms. Both Elijah Mikaelson and Rebekah Mikaelson, her aunt and uncle, walk towards Hope, dumbfounded, and not able to speak, as they both grab her hands and look at the police dragging away Klaus. 

The people in the neighborhood surround the police, gawking at the entire situation. As the police drag Klaus, the tv reporter begins their outline of the arrest. “Tonight the serial killer known as ‘The Surgeon’ may finally be behind bars. The NYPD arrested Niklaus Mikaelson, who has also become known as The Great Evil. He was connected to more than twenty-three murders…”. The report fades into thin air as Hope watches her father, The Surgeon, The Great Evil, be thrown into a cruiser, her eyes growing wider in fear.

  
  


**_Present Day - 2042_ **

**_Sevierville, Tennessee_ **

**** Hope began using her mom’s last name, Marshall, so as to avoid any connections to the Mikaelson name outside of the home. She was in the woods in her best suit and FBI vest. She mopes around past the trees, moving along with the SWAT team that was with her into a clearing, the cicadas masking their footsteps. They stop walking when they see in the distance an abandoned slaughterhouse. The sheriff grabbed his thermal scope and began to analyze the environment. 

  
  


“The truck’s engine is still hot. Our suspect’s still in there, Special Agent.”

  
  


“Special Agent?”

Marshall stands behind him, looking upward at the cicadas in awe. “They’re amazing”. The sheriff looks at her, wondering what the hell is going through her mind. She carries on with what she was thinking of before. “The cicadas. That noise protects them…. It mimics a predator’s own sounds. They think that they’re about to eat one of their own, which is generally frowned upon. Our killer feels safe when he hears it.” The sheriff begins to get anxious. 

  
  
  


“ _Special Agent_ , Landon Kirby’s in there and he’s got hostages. We need to bring in a negotiator.”

  
  
  


“ _What?_ No, this isn’t a hostage situation. He’s killing those backpackers tonight. Using the cicadas to drown out his work. We go in now.”

  
  
  


“What if your profile is wrong?”

Marshall begins to focus on the sheriff. His words, “ _What if your profile is wrong?”_ ringing continuously in her mind as if she’s holding a psychological magnifying glassー

“I get it. You’ve never had a case like this. A serial killer. They freak people out. Trust me, I know.” Marshall begins to take out a piece of candy and unwraps it. “What’s worse is that elections are coming up. It’s bad timing for you. People in this town are scared. You’re gonna lose.” She pops the candy in her mouth. Her fingers quickly and skillfully fold the wrapper. “But that’s not why you’re _really_ afraid. It’s what comes after. After _twenty fucking years_ , you begin to question: Who are you without that badge?”

Marshall knows she hit a lot of nerves in under two minutes. The sheriff is frozen, thinking of how good Marshall is at her profiling, regretting asking the damn question at this point.

  
  
  


“Wanna keep it? Do exactly as I say.”

  
  


She hands the sheriff the wrapper. When the sheriff grabs it, he notices that the wrapper is shaped into a tiny star. They begin to walk with the team towards the slaughterhouse. They head into an area where the division becomes clear. Each of the warehouse doors was closed except for one on the right side. The radios begin to go off. “Northeast section clear.” “Offices clear.” She makes sure that the officers aren’t looking and heads westbound on her own, while they make for the northeast.

Marshall takes out her gun. She enters into one of the warehouses on the property and walks with her gun pointed and continues until she sees a door and stops. She enters and begins to scan an old breakroom. She notices that the floor has been completely stripped, only the slats remain. She turns around and behind her was Landon Kirby. Before she could react, he tasers her and she falls backward, her gun falling to the floor and skidding away. She begins to gasp for air. Everything becomes distorted then. Flashbacks to her father in his prison cell begins to intrusively appear in her mind. Her mind then shifts from the flashback episode she’s currently going through to Landon Kirby hovering over her until the flashback episode wins and she’s suddenly ten years old again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it. next chapter is going to be really exciting because new characters will be introduced and you'll get to understand more about hope :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 2! i hope you like it!
> 
> there might or might not be some references that come from this book series i like, you see them, yes you do.
> 
> cw / graphic description of the murder of serial killer, mention of body parts in mason jars, mention of a shotgun, mention of gunshot and blood, mentions of c-ptsd, detailed mention of night terror, mentions of various serial killers, brief implication of one of the serial killers' cannibalism, brief mention of bondage/shackles twice

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Hope Mikaelson was by the front doors of the prison her father is being kept in. She begins to rub her eyes, the bright, white light hitting her face intensely. The heavy doors in front of her buzz and open, revealing Mister Damon, the guard. He grabs her hand and leads her to where her father’s prison cell is.

  
  
  


“Now, you remember the rule, right?”

  
  
  


“Yes, Mister Damon. No touching.”

  
  
  


“I know that he’s your dad, but the rules are the rules. Now, do you know what you want to talk about with him?”

  
  


Marshall’s flashback episode moves onward to a little later that day, when she’s in front of her father’s prison cell. Klaus Mikaelson stands in front of her inside the cell, held by restraints, and standing against the far wall. He tries to act as if this is all very normal. Hope just asked him a difficult question and he’s faking it till he makes it.

  
  
  


“Dad, why did you kill all those people?”

  
  
  


The question hit Klaus like a loaded gun. What was he supposed to say to his daughter? That he enjoyed seeing those people scream for their lives? Writhing underneath his surgical tools?

  
  
  


“Why did I do it? Well, my littlest one, I’m not sure I know the answer to that. But I do have some time on my hands, ever since I’ve been here. Maybe we can figure it out. _Together_.” He whispers that last part to Hope, a secret blown out from his lips into the air. He gives her the same smile from when he knelt down in front of her on the day of his arrest.

But Hope doesn’t entirely fall for it. She hasn’t moved from where she stands. “They call you a monster on TV. So do the kids at school. Are you?”

Not for a second has Klaus’ smile left his face. “Oh. Oh no, my littlest one. **_There’s_** **_no such thing as monsters_**.”

Marshall wakes up. She starts to wonder where she’s at. She realizes she’s in a dark workshop of sorts. She can’t stop wheezing and panting. Her gun is nowhere to be found and her earpiece is hanging around her neck. She pushes herself off the ground and that’s when she notices.

The victims.

The victims appear to be in their early 20’s, one a guy, the other a girl, proud owners of Patagonia vests, lying on the floor unconscious and tousled up. She lets out a small gasp and grabs for her earpiece while pressing her radio.

  
  
  


“This is Marshall, I’m inー”

  
  


Landon Kirby walks in. He looks much clearer now, everything Marshall predicted about him. He’s tall, definitely in his 40s. Oh, and holding a shotgun.

  
  
  


“Hey Landon, sorry to drop in, I guess.”

She gives him a nervous smile.

  
  
  


“Got nothing to say? Okay, cool. I think this is the part where I tell you the police are here.”

  
  
  


Kirby cocks his shotgun.

  
  
  


“Oh, seems like you already know. Ha.”

  
  
  


Marshall begins to take in the room for everything that it is, for everything that it entails. There are thirteen mason jars that line up on the far wall. The glass on the mason jars is glossy and smoky. Thirteen mason jars, thirteen heads in each one.

  
  
  


“Can I just say that this is fantastic? This is incredible! A whole trophy room. Most profilers would kill to see this.”

  
  
  


Marshall realizes that she’s slipped up.

  
  
  


“Just kidding! Also, just to remind you, as I’m sure you probably already know, I have an exceptionally, deceptively large head. It’s impossible to fit in a standard baseball cap. Or, even one of these mason jars.”

  
  
  


In the distance, Marshall hears a door creek, followed by footsteps. It’s obvious that it’s the police, and she’s not the only one that notices. Kirby does as well, frustration written all over his face.

  
  
  


“How’d you find me? TELL ME.”

  
  
  


“Uh, short version?.... Your victims. Their skin. Smooth. Untouched. _Identical_. Then it hit me ㄧyou chose them the way a butcher would, someone who spent their life in a slaughterhouse, raised in a slaughterhouse.”

  
  
  


Marshall starts to look around.

  
  
  


“You were sent here when you were, what? Ward of the state? This is where you were made, a psychotic paraphiliac, the only way you feel intimacy is by cutting people up. It’s how you show love.”

  
  
  


Kirby begins to move forward, stepping into the light. His face of confusion is unrecognizable and doesn’t match the monster, the profile.

  
  
  


“I was made?”

  
  
  


Marshall gently replies to him. “No one’s born broken. Someone breaks us.”

  
  
  


“How?”

  
  
  


“Put the gun down and I can tell you.”

  
  
  


Kirby hesitates at first, but slowly and surely, he starts to put the shotgun down. Both of them don’t notice that the police are closing in rather rapidly onto them.

  
  
  


“That’s good. Keep going, I can’t help you if the police find you and hurt you.”

  
  
  


Marshall spoke too quickly because it was at that moment that the sheriff arrived and shot him straight in the heart, his blood splattering all over Marshall’s face. She gasps.

  
  
  


“I got him!”

  
  
  


The sheriff. So predictable. So pathetic.

A monster.

  
  
  


“He put it down!” Marshall begins to feel her heart beating faster, her breaths coming in faster as well. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  
  
  


“No, he didn’t.”

  
  
  


“You murdered him.”

  
  
  


“I just killed a serial killer! I’m a damn hero!”

  
  
  


“A cold-blooded hero. You’re definitely gonna win by the double digits now.”

  
  
  


“Hey, don’t get it twisted. I just saved your life, kid.”

  
  
  


_Kid_ . Something about the way the sheriff called her a kid sent her into a spiral. Visions of her father, her father, her father, her father, _her father_. She slowly looks up at the sheriff, feeling so much anger her hands are shaking. But she has to think as rationally as possible, for now. She cuts the victims free.

Marshall’s hands can’t stop shaking, but it’s not just the anger anymore. She can’t stop seeing her father. That’s when she grabs the sheriff and punches him with every ounce of strength she can muster to gather to concentrate in her fist. “I’m not your fucking daughter.”

* * *

A couple of days later, Hope Marshall is sitting down in a conference room with FBI officials. She’s impatient, upset.

  
  
  


“You know, I get it. You’re not supposed to punch a sheriff. It’s not at all an official rule, so it has to be an unspoken one. Especially him. Always a commodity, never a human being. No one giving a single ounce of a fuck about him off work.” All she can think of at this point is how he called her a kid, like if they were related, his daughter instead of The Surgeon’s daughter, The Great Evil’s daughter. A few words against him won’t hurt, not like the way The Surgeon hurt her.

The first supervisor speaks. “It’s both. And refrain from speaking those words in this conference room, Special Agent Marshall.”

“Special Agent Marshall,” the second supervisor begins. “This report is damning. You ignored protocol, intimidated everyone who said no to you, spoke down to the same sheriff that you punched, even threatened him. If that was only the least of your problems, you then pissed off every officer from here to Tennessee.”

  
  


“But all in all, that’s like four **_good_ ** cops, if that’s even a thing.” Marshall smiles at the supervisors. If she had the chance, she would say that all cops are bastards, but she’s already in enough trouble as it is, she doesn’t want to make this worse. She _needs_ this job.

  
  


“We have sign off from DOJ. You’re fired.”

  
  


“Are you serious? I was the one who found Landon Kirby, I was the one who saved all of those people, and I sure as hell was the one who had him cornered and almost surrendered until he was murdered. But I forget, it’s not murder when a cop does it, huh? No, they’re absolved of all crime when they strike against someone that is considered a danger to society, right?”

Oh, Hope Mikaelson, as predictable as she’s **_unreal_ ** . _Hope Marshall_ would never say such things.

  
  


“I’m sorry, Marshall. This was my call. I’m worried that you might suffer psychotic tendencies, not unlike your father’s.”

A nerve was struck deep inside Hope Mikaelson. _Hope Marshall_ would never show it. She would be quiet, little Hope Marshall, even though she would want to _scream_.

  
  
  


“What does he have to do with this?” If Marshall wasn’t upset before, you can count on the fact that Mikaelson is. And Mikaelson will let them know.

  
  
  


“Well, your father is The Surgeon, The Great Evil. Your C-PTSD, the narcissism. You ran into that slaughterhouse on your own with complete disregard for your safety.”

  
  


The first supervisor muttered under his breath, “Talk about daddy issues.”

  
  
  


“I’m not like my father! And, for your information, The Surgeon? He’s not psychotic. He’s a predatory sociopath. Not that you should know the difference, of course, it’s only your fucking job! Next time you decide to call someone ‘crazy’ maybe ask for their gun first.” Furiously, Marshall grabs her gun and her badge and slams both of them on the table, scaring both the supervisors and the head profiler.

* * *

At night, the pavor nocturnus ー night terror ー strikes again.

  
  


**_Klaus Mikaelson’s Prison Cell_ **

**_2032_ **

Klaus Mikaelson is sitting down in his cell’s bed, towards the far wall, talking to his daughter, Hope Mikaelson, as she sits on the floor listening to every word he says. She’s wearing a Whitmore College sweater, taking notes. The cell door behind them was open.

  
  
  


“Dahmer, Gein, Kemper. I just keep coming back to the thought: What if psychopathy isn’t a disease? What if it’s a kind of genius? A killer has to be precise. It’s all about the details. That was Dahmer’s mistake. Seven heads in a fridge? It boggles the mind!”

  
  


“Genius? Keeping heads in a fridge? Come on, Dahmer wasn’t that smart. H-His fridge was so packed with body parts that he didn’t even have room for groceries.”

  
  


“No. Not locking them up! That’s my point. You have to think like the predator and the prey. But you’re missing another point: Those were the groceries.” Klaus begins to laugh, too enthusiastically. Hope looks up at him and lets out a small, nervous laugh.

  
  


“Almost like a detective.”

  
  


“Public servants in polyester suits? Please, we’re nothing like them.” Klaus Mikaelson, slipping back into the habit of living the life of luxury with his dear brother Elijah Mikaelson? Seems more likely than you think.

  
  


Hope looks up at him. “You mean _you_ . _You’re_ nothing like them.” She shifts a little, only a little, but she already let her emotions show. Klaus picks up on the fact that his littlest one looks troubled.

  
  


“I should get going.”

  
  


“Oh, it’s so much fun to talk shop. You know I-I cherish these sessions.”

  
  


“You know that I’m intrigued by the criminal mind.”

  
  


“Oh please, we talk about murder the way most people talk about sports.” Klaus laughs, once again a little too enthusiastically, but thinking that might help soothe Hope, for some odd reason.

  
  


“It’s more than that.” Hope’s hands begin to shake, trying her hardest to hide the tremor. So, she does what anyone with a tremor would do: move her hands in the hopes that it wouldn’t show. But her father knows better. He’s a surgeon, for god’s sake.

  
  


Klaus begins to shift closer towards Hope. Hope stood up, her back to the cell’s front. “I see the tremors are back.” Hope doesn’t answer, she looks to the floor. “You know, I-I-I once had a patient who had a psychogenic tremor.” Hope keeps looking down, she refuses to answer. Klaus gives up, begins to sigh. “What is it that you have to tell me? What is it, come on, spit it out.”

Hope breathes in and holds her breath in for a few seconds. The fear won’t stop creeping in, the tremor won’t stop. She’s trying so hard to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t work. Finally, she gets the courage to speak. “Last semester…. An FBI Profiler spoke in one of my Behavioral Science classes. The work they do is fascinating. So… I applied to Quantico.” That last sentence, she spoke out so carefully. So carefully, in fact, it scared both her and her father.

  
  


“The FBI? Really, Hope?! What makes you think they’ll trust you? Hope, you’re the daughter of a serial killer!”

  
  


“....A serial killer who taught me everything I needed to know about the criminal mind. I’m just putting it to good use. Is that such a problem?”

Oh, Hope Mikaelson. As predictable as she’s **_real_ **. 

  
  


“What? No, I forbid it!”

  
  


“Good thing I’m 21 years old, then. What I’m trying to drill into your thick skull is that _THIS_ 一” She gestures between her and her father “is over. These talks we have, they’re over.”

  
  


“Over? No. No, I-I need you. You’re my only connection to the world out there. I’ll-I’ll be disconnected. I’ll be cut off. P-Please Hope, don’t do this. This is not what I want!”

  
  


“Maybe that’s a good thing. Goodbye, Dr. Mikaelson.” Hope mustered enough courage to say that because she still can’t stop the tremor in her hands, the shaking, the fear. She turns around and the moment she looks at the cell door, it slams back into her face. She lets out a gasp in disbelief and begins to shake the cell door.

  
  


“That’s it?! One triumphant goodbye? The Surgeon’s daughter making good in the world because she thinks it’s her DUTY? Do you think you’re the first person to think this, Hope? Welcome to the bloody party! You’ll have a BLAST!”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson begins to feel cold. She exhales and begins to see her breath. Wait a minute. _Wait a minute_ . She turns around and sees that Klaus is standing up, smiling. **_Where did his shackles go?_ ** The cold never leaves the cell. Why is it still so cold?

She then realizes. “This isn’t real. I left you. I walked out of here. I liberated myself from you. I even changed my name. I’m no longer a part of **_YOU_ **.” She can’t move. Klaus begins to reach out.

  
  


“You can’t leave, Hope. Mister Damon isn’t coming.” He keeps extending his hand towards Hope.

  
  


“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.”

  
  


He continues to smile and finally rests his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Have you already forgotten, Hope? I can’t believe you already forgot about ‘always and forever’. Seems like I also need to remind you of one more thing: **_we’re the same_ **.”

Klaus’ smile never leaves his face. Hope looks him right in the eyes, then his smile.

She begins to scream as loud as she could.

That’s when she wakes up. She wakes up screaming. She’s sweaty, her heartbeat is racing. Her body is shaking. In her apartment, she’s shackled to the bed and wears a mouthguard. It’s then when she spits out the mouthguard and begins a breathing exercise to distract her from her night terror. Hope Mikaelson knows that this is a product of her being fired. From the one job that she _needed_ . How is she going to cope now? How else is she going to erase, start from scratch on a new day, pretend that she’s still Hope Marshall, hold on to the concept of Hope Marshall as much as she can fully knowing she can never be quiet, little Hope Marshall, and carry on with her day to avoid thinking of everything wrong in her life? It hits her then. She’s gotta go back to the _one place_ where she knows she shouldn’t return, but needs to in order to gain back a sense of normality: Mikaelson Townhouse. Upper East Side. New York City.

Hope Mikaelson contacts her landlord and tells her that she’s leaving. For good. She signs documents from her landlord confirming that she’s leaving. She heads back to her place and begins to pack up everything. There really isn’t much to pack, minimalistic person and all. Having too many things makes it hard to run away. Before she officially leaves, she buys a one-way plane ticket. She takes a good look around the place, says her goodbye, and closes the door to her apartment for the last time.

Oh, Hope Mikaelson, as predictable as she’s **_becoming real._ **

* * *

Hope Mikaelson lands in New York at night. She goes outside into Midtown and rings for a cab. She tells the cab where to go. The cab stops, but not in front of the Mikaelson Townhouse. No. Not right now. She can’t face her family just yet. She’s right in front of the building her mom owns. Where her loft is. And what a hell of a loft it is. 

Upon entering her loft, Hope Mikaelson begins to feel at ease. She looks around. Everything seems to be in place, well taken care of. Definitely has to be Nik. She’s really missing her cat and her fish, she knows they’re in good care under Nik.

The walls are adorned with murder weapons. Lots of katana swords, dating back to the 17th century, but also lots of guns and knives. It does seem like murder is pretty engraved in her mind. She beings to unpack, but somehow feels weird about it. Is it normal to return to the one place you were dying to get away from for so long? She’ll just have to run away when everything gets bad again because she has nothing to stay for, nothing to fight for.

* * *

The first person she gets a call from the next day is Nik. Terrifying, as she hasn’t communicated to any members of her family, even her own mother, that she’s back home. Home. Such a permanent, grounding word.

  
  


“Hope. Andrea. Mikaelson.”

Yep. Nik is upset.

  
  


“Were you going to ever tell us, tell me, that you were back?”

  
  


“Nik, you’re being dramatic, as usual. I was going to call mom today. I mean, I kinda have to. She does own the building after all.”

Silence.

  
  


“Why don’t we go see her together? Might as well. Not sure if you’re aware but moms, Uncle Elijah, and Aunt Rebekah all live with Aunt Hayley now and moms want to see me.”

  
  


Silence.

Hope Mikaelson thinks of this carefully. She does love her aunts and her only uncle, but she’s not ready to see them. In person, at least. She last spoke to them a few weeks ago, but seeing them physically in front of her was a different thing. They’re the link to Klaus Mikaelson, and she liberated herself from him ten years ago.

  
  


“Okay, sure.”

  
  


There she was, completely disregarding her mental health once again and agreeing to go to the Mikaelson Townhouse. With her cousin. Where she’ll see the whole family, not just her stronghold to the Marshall name. The identity she clings on to for dear life as if she’s going to die any second. Marshall is her lifeline, Mikaelson is her downfall.

Oh, Hope Marshall, as unpredictable as she is **_unreal._ **

She meets up with Nik and deep inside Hope Mikaelson, she feels whole again hugging a family member so dear to her. It seems like the life inspiration card quote of “I’m willing to let go and trust myself” maybe working because she lets herself feel this and tells Nik, “I’ve missed you”.

They begin to walk together. Nik Mikaelson. Her favorite Mikaelson, in his late 20s, somewhat more normal than Hope, her emotional spark-plug, clearly. Both Nik and Hope hold their coffee cups. Nik begins the conversation first. “They fired you? Because of Uncle? Damn, the FBI is truly idiotic.” At the mention of that, people begin to look at them. Hope visibly winces. “It’s just not fair, you haven’t seen him in at least ten years, maybe a little more.”

  
  


“Nik, I’m fine. Honestly. But, spoiler alert, I did punch a sheriff in the face, which is apparently frowned upon. Who knew, right?”

  
  


“Honestly? Hope, you look like shit. Have your nightmares been coming back?”

  
  


He contemplates a bit before he continues. “You know, I feel really lucky. I was five when Uncle Klaus was arrested. I don’t really remember much about the whole event. But you know what I do remember? You, Hope. You telling me everything was going to be okay, even though you knew that nothing was going to be okay, maybe nothing was going to be normal ever again.”

Hope registers everything that Nik is telling her. He’s right. Nothing was okay, nothing was normal between them ever again. The only good thing that came out of all of this was their familial bond because it became stronger. Family above everything. Always and forever. Even when the words “always and forever” were so haunting.

  
  


“Don’t worry, I found some extra-comfy restraints at a local family-owned bondage boutique a few months ago, works like a charm.” She can’t bring herself to reply to everything else Nik said after asking about her night terrors.

Nik ignores Hope’s comment, for the moment, anyway. “Hey, this is a good thing though. A-a fresh start, you know? Forget about the FBI and all those serial killers. But now I don’t know what to get you for Christmas. Sad.”

Hope rolls her eyes. Nik gets a text. “Sorry, it’s work. I have a report on this big thing happening.”

  
  


“First of all, do you realize who you’re telling to forget all about murder? Second of all, is this another Niklaus Mikaelson exclusive?” She uses what she thinks is an announcer’s voice “The Surgeon’s nephew dissects another murder?? Tune it tonight at 11!”

  
  


Nik laughs. “Nope, don’t worry, it’s just some white-collar crap. You wish though, but listen, maybe this is also another good thing, taking some time off murder, that should really be your new affirmation!”

Hope watches Nik walk away as she smirks. “I’m taking some time off murder. Is that something you really think I should be announcing to the world?”

  
  


“Yep! That’s right. I love you so much, I mean it!”

  
  


She doesn’t stop smiling so happily until she realizes something: Nik wasn’t telling the truth. She becomes concerned, the moment that just happened flashing through her mind.

  
  


“Nope, don’t worry, it’s just some white-collar crap. ( **He looks away** ). You wish though, ( **He hesitates, takes a breath before** ) but listen, maybe this is another good thing….”

  
  


Hope blinks and once again, everything is just back to normal.

* * *

Hope Mikaelson begins to walk again, lost in thought but at least she’s without a care in the world.

Right?

  
  


“Marshall!”

  
  


She turns around. A familiar face. Another familiar face that makes her so happy. NYPD Detective, former EMT Stefan Salvatore. Stefan Salvatore, early 50s, recently became a widow, the awful fashion sense that’s frozen in time. Curse Steve McQueen and his outfits from “Bullet”. That turtleneck looks good on Detective Salvatore, though.

  
  


“Stefan? What are you doing here?”

  
  


“Me? I’m not the one that sneaked her way back into town and is completely ducking her family and friends.”

  
  


“I… I have friends?”

  
  


“Missed you, too, pal.” He laughs at her statement, but Hope is frozen. Stefan notices that the wheels in Hope Mikaelson’s brains are turning.

  
  


“You okay? You have that little.. Spooked puppy look going on.”

  
  


Hope looks up at him. The realization from earlier flooding her mind once again, playing like a mini-movie. “My cousin lied to me. His autonomic tells always give him away.”

  
  


“Wow, a reporter lying? Can you believe it?”

  
  


Hope continues with her profile. It’s still a shock that she’s had to profile her cousin. “He didn’t want me to know that he’s covering a murder.” She carries on, thinking. “And if he didn’t want me to know that he’s covering a murder, that means it was a murder big and important enough to cover, therefore…”

She looks up at Stefan. He smiles at her. “That means I have a murder important enough for me to track and find your profiling ass.”

  
  


“Stefan, you know the FBI fired me, right?”

  
  


“It’s your lucky day. Good thing I’m NYPD, right? I always did tell you that you weren’t an FBI woman. When are you gonna learn to listen to me?”

  
  


Hope continues to look at Stefan. The Hope Mikaelson in her really wants to tell him that no, it’s not her lucky day because the NYPD are just as capable of being bastards as the PD’s she had to encounter from Virginia to Tennessee, but the Hope Marshall. The quiet, little Hope Marshall. Marshall being her lifeline, she doesn’t utter a single word and gets into his car. She is a bit self-conscious though, serial killer father fact and all creeping into her mind.

  
  


“If I’m going to be working with your team, can we not mention... You knowー”

  
  


“Your dad? Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

  
  


Stefan turns on the car and speeds towards the scene. Hope Mikaelson indeed lied right back to her cousin, because there was going to be zero murder avoidance. The only avoidance she’s going to **_attempt_ **, which Hope Marshall isn’t aware of yet, will be the brunette on Stefan Salvatore’s team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i really hope you liked this chapter. i just wanna say that i added whitmore into the story briefly because since after that, she went to quantico and quantico is also in virginia,,, yes. also, yes, i added the former emt thing, what are you gonna do about it? so,,, connections, connections!
> 
> are you all ready for first hosie meeting next chapter?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! here's chapter 3, thank you for being patient with this update, i haven't been feeling so well, but i'll be alright.
> 
> tw / dead body, mentions of body fluids and blood, allusions to sex and bdsm, mentions of alcohol, mentions of medication for mental illnesses (specifically for anxiety, mood disorders, and psychosis), mention of trauma, mentions of dead bodies, mention of incisions, mention of bruises, mention of needles, mention of paralytic drugs, mention of bomb, mention of a weapon and cutting a hand
> 
> i had to definitely make josie a parker, fuck the saltzman name.

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Detective Stefan Salvatore and Former Special Agent Hope Marshall arrive at the scene of the crime. They arrive at the Astoria Tower, a new building that’s completely fabricated with glass and steel. They’re both not surprised when they see many news stations, including the one that Nik works with. They were able to skip everyone and continue onward into the elevators.

Nik Mikaelson, front, and center at the Astoria Tower. Speaking into the camera, he says, “It’s the third high-profile homicide this month. Sources in the NYPD fear the worst 一 New York may have a new serial killer.”

Once out of the elevators, Stefan sees Detective Josie Parker, as she tells him, “Victim’s name is Jenna Sommers. The mayor’s office keeps calling, it looks like we have a V.I.C. on our hands.” As Josie was talking, Hope Marshall struts as if she’s entering a mall and not a murder scene. All she can think about is how she’s going to enjoy this crime scene, but snaps out of it when she hears the words V.I.C.

  
  


“V.I.C.?”

  
  


“Very Important Cadaver.” She gets her answer from Stefan, not once having looked at Josie Parker. Yet.

  
  


The whole area is surrounded by cops. Josie hands over the file to Stefan. “Here's the Medical Examiner’s initial report”.

  
  


“Ha, I’ll be taking that, thank you.” Hope snatches the file out of his hands. Stefan rolls his eyes.

  
  


“Josie Parker, this is Hope Marshall. Psychologist, forensic profiler, an extremely acquired taste.” And that’s when they both look at each other.

  
  


Josie Parker. Definitely in her late 20s, headstrong, takes no bullshit from anyone, smacks her gum like she’s mad at it, so beautiful it _hurts_. Hope Mikaelson is definitely gay panicking right now, but since she needs to assess what’s going on at the crime scene, she hides behind the file.

Hope Marshall continues with the work because she can’t let Hope Mikaelson be the dominant personality right now.

Oh, Hope Marshall, as predictable as she’s trying to be **_real_ **.

  
  


“No fluids or blood around the body? There’s usually a psycho-sexual component. Are we sure there was no ejaculate anywhere?”

  
  


All the cops begin to look at one another. Except for Josie. Josie just smacks her gum and stares intently at Hope. More gay panic.

  
  


“Yeah, we’re sure.”

  
  


“Oh, wow, then he’s a real neat boy!” 

  
  


“Careful, Marshall,” Stefan warns Hope. Hope Marshall knows better than to say such things, clearly, this is Hope Mikaelson in action, in panic mode. Then again, it’s not just the panic. Who would date Hope Mikaelson? No one. Who would even like Hope Mikaelson? Certainly not Josie Parker.

  
  


The body of Jenna Sommers. Late 40s, half-naked on the floor. On the floor of a spacious bedroom, unknown yet if it’s hers or not. From the other side of the body, Detective Milton “MG” Greasley, in his late 30s, born and bred in New York, walks over in his black leather jacket.

  
  


“Stefan, the housekeeper found the body two hours ago. She’s forty-three, unmarried, and rich. Just my type.” 

  
  


Hope Mikaelson’s gay-panic-turned-gay-panic-and- _something else_ strikes again. “So, you’re a necrophiliac?”

The _something else_ , as it turns out, is sarcasm.

  
  


“What? No. Who’s this woman?”

  
  


Stefan, already such an introducing type, tells MG, “MG, this is Marshall. Marshall, MG. You two won’t like each other.”

Hope Mikaelson, striking once again. “Good to know! Excuse me.”

Marshall effortlessly slips in between all the techs and unis. She studies everything, totally in her element. She then notices the victim’s lingerie, bruises on her wrists, and the impressions on the rug underneath the body.

Josie keeps watching her intently. There’s just something about Hope Marshall that catches her eye, despite how she composes herself in conversation. She’s definitely intrigued.

Josie takes this time, a very weird time indeed, to try and talk to Hope. “So, you’re a profiler?”

  
  


“Mhm.” Hope doesn’t take her eyes off the body, she’s not going to let the gay panic win today.

  
  


“Looks like our killer already filled out her own profile. She was looking to bang.” MG, always so subtle and absolutely never aware of when he ruins a moment.

  
  


Hope looks up from the body then. “ _BANG_? Is that your thing? Do you always associate intercourse with violence? Actually, don’t answer that, it honestly explains a lot about you.”

Hope Mikaelson can’t stand being around MG, so she gets up and wanders off. MG takes a look at Stefan.

Stefan gives him a hard stare. “Can you please just let her work?”

Marshall notes the signs of a struggle. A broken champagne glass. A ripped robe. She begins to assimilate all this and thenー

She imagines the room as if it were the night before. Jenna enters the room in lingerie. She’s dancing seductively with the champagne glass in her hand. Marshall is looking from the front door, in the line of the killer. She’s the killer’s POV.

Josie is getting a bit worried about Marshall. She’s also curious as to what Marshall does when trying to profile the scene. “What’s the matter?”

Marshall closes her eyes and shakes her head a bit. “Nothing, it’s just kind of my thing. I imagine the crime from the killer’s point of view. It helps me understand their state of mind.”

  
  


“So, you think like the killer?” Josie moves slightly closer to Hope.

  
  


“Yeah, it’s such a blessing in disguise.”

  
  


The crime floods Hope’s mind again. She moves towards Jenna. Jenna looks towards her and starts to scream. Her hands grab Jenna and they begin to fight.

Marshall keeps playing it out in her mind, and then she turns to MG.

  
  


“You were right, Micah.”

  
  


“It’s MG.”

  
  


“Our victim was expecting someone special. A lover. Unfortunately, the wrong man showed up.”

  
  


Josie begins to fiddle with the pocket of her jacket. It’s her nervous tick. Hope notices, and that’s when she stops. Josie looks at Hope. Hope looks at Josie.

  
  


“But, it could have been her lover who had done this.”

  
  


“No. The broken glass. Torn robe. She was surprised. She wasn’t expecting our killer.”

  
  


A thought begins to form in Marshall’s mind. She heads over to Jenna’s body and gets down on her knees. Through Jenna’s hair, she seesー

  
  


“Her eyes are open. It wasn’t poison. It was a paralytic drug.”

  
  


Marshall stands up and begins to pace.

  
  


“He trapped her in her own body. She had to feel everything. He’s a Power-Control-Killer. They prolong suffering for their own sadistic pleasure. He enjoys all of this.”

  
  


Outside of the Astoria Tower, Nik Mikaelson is talking to his crew. In the shadows, there’s a man staring up at the Sommers Suite. His face is entirely hidden. The killer is bold enough to show up once again at the scene of the crime.

  
  


“He may be close. Watching. Feeling like he’s still in control.”

  
  


MG is the first to speak up. “You got all of that just from her eyes?”

Hope Mikaelson gets vividly frustrated with him. She gives him the can-you-shut-the-fuck-up look, which MG is not a fan of.

  
  


“He sounds like a real monster.” It’s Josie who speaks now, her voice above a whisper but not quite loud enough. Hope still heard her.

  
  


“No. There’s no such thing as monsters. Our killer isn’t possessed by some evil force. He’s flesh and blood. But broken. My job is to figure out why…”

  
  


Marshall begins to think this out in her mind, trying to figure out how he was able to induce a paralytic drug and connecting it with everything else she knows about the crime.

  
  


“Inducing paralysis is a thousand times harder than just knocking someone out. It takes practice, equipment…. Medical skills.”

  
  


She pictures everything much clearer than before: Multiple syringes lay before the killer. He injects several times, through Jenna’s legs and arms. Her eyes are frozen open.

Marshall snaps out of it. Pure dread spreads across her face.

  
  


“I’ve seen this before.”

  
  


She storms towards the body and scares the medical examiner.

Stefan is the first to yell. “Marshall, you can’t do that!”

Marshall finds an incision behind her ear and her face goes pale, completely in shock.

  
  


“There will be another injection point near her heart and then the final one in her Achilles tendon.”

  
  


MG is about done with Hope Marshall. He’s tired of her sounding and acting like she’s a know-it-all. For all he knows, Hope Marshall IS the killer. “How the hell do you know that?”

  
  


“This killer’s a copycat. He’s mimicking another serial killer… Dr. Klaus Mikaelson, The Surgeon, The Great Evil.”

  
  


Josie Parker hasn’t stopped looking at Hope Marshall since she got into the room. Although she’s had the strength to speak up at certain times, she can’t muster the strength now. But she tries. “Yeah? You know all about this Surgeon guy?”

Hope Mikaelson can’t focus anywhere but on Stefan. Stefan is the only one that feels safe right now. The only face, the only soul that knows how shaken she is right now. She doesn’t feel so liberated anymore. There’s no more Hope Marshall, her lifeline, it’s only Hope Mikaelson, her downfall. Hope Mikaelson was a fool to believe she could come back to New York. Hope Mikaelson was an even bigger fool to believe she could come back to New York and not face her past. She can’t run away now. She can’t run away for a second time. There was no liberation, only the faux idea of it. Hope Marshall died, it’s only Hope Mikaelson now.

  
  


“Almost like he’s family.”

* * *

It’s finally nighttime. Hope Mikaelson is outside on the balcony of the suite. It’s a big balcony, and most other cops are on the far right. Stefan comes out and walks over to Hope, who is on the far left corner.

  
  


“Marshall, are you alright? I worried about bringing you in. I didn’t want to wake any demons but I needed to make sure that he was copying your dad.”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson doesn’t bother telling him that Hope Marshall died the moment she landed in New York. Quiet, little Hope Marshall is no more. “Don’t worry, my demons don’t sleep. Tell me about the others.”

  
  


“The first hit three weeks ago. He copied a technique your father used on a woman named Carol Lockwood. But we didn’t make the connection. Then last week we found another body. This time he copiedー”

  
  


“Isobel Flemming.”

  
  


“That’s right. How did you know?”

  
  


“My father killed her after Carol. Your suspect is copying The Quartet, a series of four murders he committed in 2016.”

  
  


“But, we’ve only had three.”

  
  


“Your killer’s not finished.”

  
  


“Have you spoken to him?”

  
  


“No. No. Not in ten years. And I can’t go back there, Stefan. I can’t go back to him. No…. It wasn’t a healthy relationship.”

  
  


“And I’m not asking you to. I would never ask you to. If you want to go, I want you to go because you make the decision. But, I have a serial killer on my hands, and you’re telling me he’s not done.”

  
  


“Okay, I can get started on a profile. You know, some people will think it’s me.”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Think about it. I’m a good suspect. I’m The Surgeon’s daughter, I’m emotionally scarred for life, I recently got fired. It makes complete sense.”

  
  


“Except I know you. I know your family. You’re not like him, you were just raised by him.”

  
  


“Yeah, my dad’s no picnic.”

  
  


Hope leaves Stefan and the crime scene to go back to her loft. When she gets there, she notices that one of the locks is open. A warning.

  
  


“Hello?”

  
  


She goes up the stairs quietly. She hears a scream coming from the kitchen. She tenses. She finally gets to the top. She faces the kitchen, which is right in front of her. To her right, her bed and the window next to it. On her left, all those beautiful and antique murder weapons. The katana would look good right now if the woman in the kitchen were anyone else. But this is the one and onlyー

Hayley Marshall. Late 50s, that one New Yorker who you think is WASPy and uses sarcasm like a blade but is actually a total sweetheart.

Hope smiles. “Hi, mom.”

Hayley, who was fixated on the stove, turns around and faces her daughter. She smiles right back. “Hi, baby. I’m making tea. Come. Sit. Nik called and told me that you got fired. I’m so sorry.”

Hope hasn’t stopped smiling. She’s missed her mom so much. “Yeah, mom, don’t worry, I won’t drag our name through the mud anymore.”

  
  


“Oh, stop that. You haven’t done that once. But, since we’re being honest, I'm drinking all my problems away and I don’t hide from it.”

  
  


“Well, since I’m unemployed now, I think I’ll just meet you at the bar.”

  
  


“Hmm, the problem is, I know you’re not sleeping well enough. Nik told me you’re having those night terrors again. Why don’t you try Chamomile? It should probably do the trick. And if it doesn’t, we can go see if you can get those prescription refills.”

  
  


Hayley isn’t leaving any time soon, so Hope does as her mom told her not too long ago. She heads over to the chairs in her kitchen and sits in the one in the middle. 

  
  


“Mom, you can absolutely ask for the prescription refills, but anti-anxiety medication, mood stabilizers, anti-psychosis medication? They’re not going to fix the trauma that we all collectively have as a family.”

  
  


Hope notices her mom’s hand shake, almost imperceptibly.

  
  


“You’re right.”

  
  


“How I’ve missed our talks.”

  
  


“I’ve missed you, too, baby, more than you’ll understand.” Hayley walks over to Hope and gives her a strong, lingering hug as well as a kiss on her forehead. Maybe Hope was wrong. She may not be Hope Marshall anymore, the Mikaelson name plaguing her again, but it was good to be home as long as her mom was around.

  
  


“Hope, why don’t you join us all for dinner tomorrow? Aunt Freya and Aunt Rebekah haven’t stopped asking for you since Nik told us you were back.”

Hope thinks about it, but it’s not a thought that takes long. “Sure. I’ll be there. Can you call me tomorrow and tell me the time? I’m getting tired and I want to try and sleep.”

  
  


“Of course, drink your tea. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hayley smiles at her daughter, grabs her purse, and heads down the stairs.

  
  


Hope finishes the tea and heads to change into her pj’s. It’s just a t-shirt and boxer-styled shorts but they’re comfy and Hope likes them. She brushes her teeth and then heads to bed to put on her restraints. Grabs her sleep mask and her mouth guard as well as an affirmation card. “I am thankful for my journey and its lessons. I am thankful for my journey and its lessons.”

She’s quite unimpressed at this affirmation card, so she rips it up. She then starts to look at her bed. She’s hesitant and scared, sleep has never been her best friend. Not since she was ten. She takes off her restraints and heads over to her office, it’s on the side with all the antique murder weapons. She begins to grab these closed boxes. One has labeled “The Surgeon”, the other “The Great Evil”. The one labeled “The Surgeon” has all his old journals in them and the one labeled “The Great Evil” has every newspaper clip and all of Hope’s old journals.

  
  


“Maybe we’ll just take a peak…”

* * *

In the precinct the next day, Stefan, Josie, and MG head into the medical examiner’s lab. A lab that was definitely high tech in the 70s.

MG, hoping that he receives good news, asks Stefan where Marshall is.

  
  


“This one might not be for her.”

  
  


And that’s exactly the good news that MG was hoping for. Stefan turns towards the medical examiner.

  
  


“Pen, thanks for hustling on this. I know these homicides wereー”

  
  


“Amazing!”

  
  


Penelope Park, in her 30s. Part-time doctor at the Presbyterian Lower Manhattan Hospital, part-time forensic medical examiner, pathologist, and coroner for the NYPD. She looks up from her work and fumbles with her glasses. 

  
  


“I’ve only read about The Surgeon’s methods in textbooks. To see them carried out in person is such a thrill.” Next to Penelope, Jenna’s body and the two other victims are on metal tables.

  
  


“Three victims. Examination of the first two revealed that there was hemorrhagic infiltration into the tissue of the neck. Victim three is different. A series of paralytic drugs shut her body down. One organ at a time. It must have been agony.”

  
  


“It was.” Hope Mikaelson enters the room, looking amazing in her plaid blue suit for someone who doesn’t sleep.

  
  


“I imagine. I got a preliminary profile.”

  
  


Stefan cuts in. “Hope, have you gotten any sleep at all?”

  
  


“I got six hours three nights ago. So, I am **_good_ **.”

  
  


MG leans towards Josie and tells her, quietly, “So, she’s the killer, right?” to which Josie responds by looking towards MG and rolling her eyes. Mikaelson inspects the cadavers while Penelope tries to understand her.

  
  


“That stitch work is amazing. And these trunk incisions... “ Hope looks at Penelope. “You’re like Picasso with formaldehyde.”

  
  


“Thank you. And you…. You look so slender, but you need sleep.”

  
  


“Thanks, but sleep and I don’t work well together and most foods make me sick. I’m Hope.”

  
  


“Right, I’m Dr. Park. Or just Pen. Call me that.”

  
  


Stefan interjects then. “Okay, not to interrupt, but do you have a profile for us?”

  
  


“I do. Our suspect is a serial killer super fan. Probably a white male ─ big surprise. He blends in. Average height, average size. And smart. He’s a high functioning psychopath. He can pass for sane.”

  
  


Josie has paid attention to every word that came out of Hope’s mouth from the moment she came in. She's still trying to figure out what's so intriguing about Hope Marshall. “Sounds like my ex” are the words that come out of her mouth in response to Hope’s profile.

Hope takes this moment to look at Josie before she continues to talk. Josie has on a light brown jacket and a black button up shirt. The jacket is puffy around the arms, but the effect of that is most likely because Josie has her arms crossed. Hope is thinking about how everything looks good on her, even her dark blue jeans and black Doc Martens. To avoid further looking at Josie any longer, she turns around and heads towards Jenna Sommer’s body. She lifts her arm up to show the bruises on Jenna’s wrists.

  
  


“He’s also inadequate. He can’t craft his own murders so he mimics another serial killer. But this bruising… it doesn’t match The Great Evil’s methods.”

  
  


Stefan gives a possible idea, but wrong indeed. “Maybe our guy handcuffed her?”

Josie, while looking right at Hope, replies to Stefan. “He didn’t need to. He paralyzed her.”

Hope just looks anywhere but at Josie. She can’t have this gay panic thing happen again. Avoiding Josie Parker is what she opts to do. She continues on talking about the bruises. “And these bruises aren’t from metal..” She studies them for a minute. “My guess is a quarter-inch thick Japanese-style bondage rope. Simple, but effective.”

Penelope is confused by Hope’s assessment of the bruises, but says something regardless so as to not seem like she’s actually not understanding. “Exactly!”

Hope is now looking at Penelope’s desk and sees candy. “Is that hard candy available?”

Penelope looks at the bowl herself and grabs it. “By all means, go ahead and take some.” Hope takes one and starts to unwrap the candy.

Josie is utterly confused and feeling oddly weird about the situation in front of her. It’s not even remotely sensual ー it’s just two co-workers interacting, but why does she hate what’s going on? Regardless, she makes it known. “What’s happening?”

Stefan, in order to control the hostility that is entirely one-sided from Josie’s part, signals to Penelope to talk. “Uh, yes, the bruises are from earlier. These women were all restrained, but not on the night of their murder.”

MG tries to understand what that means. “Like a ‘Fifty Shades’ thing? I got you.” Josie slowly turns to look at him and hits him on the arm. “What? I’m a reader.” Why anyone would be proud to have read the Fifty Shades series is beyond Josie’s understanding but she turns back to focus on Hope. Again.

Hope notices how Josie focuses her attention towards her again. She looks a second too long. She claps her hands. “So! We have three victims all exhibiting bruising consistent with BDSM activities. Jenna was waiting for someone the night of her murder. What if it was a professional dom? What if he was seeing all three of them?”

Stefan snaps his fingers. “That’s the connection we’ve been looking for.”

  
  


“Then that means he’s getting paid. I’ll track down the bank records.” Josie begins to leave the room first.

Hope smiles to everyone as they get out of the room after Josie. Hope begins to look at Josie’s left hand. She wonders what it’s like to hold her han- No, she doesn’t, because Hope Mikaelson can never fall for anyone, date anyone. She can’t let herself care for anyone like that because she’s not _worthy_.

Hope Mikaelson leaves the candy wrapper shaped like a bird on Penelope Park’s desk.

* * *

Hope, Josie, and MG arrive at an apartment building in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen. They’re luxury condos. They walk right through the lobby.

Josie did all the research on the building and began to explain everything she found out. “Apartment 6J is owned by Thierry Vanchure. A high-end escort who specializes in everything BDSM. All of our victims sent him payments in the past three months.”

MG is at the front, followed by Hope, and then Josie. They go up the stairs up to the sixth floor. He stands at the door, gun pointed. “NYPD!” He then turns to Hope and Josie. “Lights are out, but Stefan said to wait until he gets a warrant.”

Hope takes the chance to pull out her cellphone.

  
  


“Are you calling Stefan?”

  
  


“No, Thierry. His number was in the file.”

  
  


There’s ringing inside the apartment. Hope looks towards MG and Josie. “Seems like he’s home and available for a quick session! Forget the warrant, we need to go in.”

MG breaks the door and heads in first. “Clear!”

The entire apartment is very creepy. There are work lights shimmering, bound hands on a chair shaking, a muffled mouth begging for help. A blow silences them. The entire square inch of the apartment is wrapped in cellophane. Everything is clear, until Hope sees a table filled with surgical equipment, tools, electronics, and chemicals. Josie also notices.

  
  


“Hope?”

  
  


“I think he’s trying to build electronics to compound his own drugs. He’s more than a copycat. More than a fan. So much more.”

  
  


Another muffled cry. MG breaks down the cellophane that leads to the bedroom and sees the one and only Thierry Vanchure. Thierry Vanchure, supposed BDSM extraordinaire, in his 30s, somewhat good looking, extremely terrified. Gagged and bound to the chair, poor Thierry is in extremely bad shape. Josie rushes over to him. “Thierry? Thierry, is there anyone else here with you?”

Thierry looks at Josie. He points with his eyes towards the left. His eyes scream, “BEHIND YOU!”

Josie looks at him wide-eyed and turns around. The killer is behind her. “Freeze! NYPD!”

The killer bolts out of the room and fires a gun. All the cops hit the floor. He leaps through a blacked out window. Sunshine comes in right through. The three of them run and see the killer sliding down through construction insulation. Josie turns to MG. “Help Hope. I got this.” She jumps out the window and slides down the insulation herself like a total badass. Hope smiles. Nope, nope. Time to assess the situation and find out more information from Thierry. By more information, she totally means help out this poor man, of course.

MG speaks into his walkie-talkie, “I got a 10-13. Armed perp heading east on Fulton. Officer in pursuit.”

Hope removes Thierry’s gag. “Thierry, my name is Marshall. I’m here to help.”

  
  


“I didn’t want to do it… He made me call the clients. Set up dates. He’s a psycho, dude! He killed them all.”

  
  


Hope didn’t even have to ask, he let out everything himself. MG cuts Thierry’s restraints. “It’s okay, we’re here now.”

  
  


“You gotta get me out of this chair!”

  
  


Thierry begins to have a breakdown. The only problem is, and of course Thierry knew, that he’s not going anywhere. A three-inch thick steel cuff shackles his left wrist to the chair, followed by a bunch of wires encircling the entire area.

  
  


“Shit. MG, we have a problem.”

  
  


Josie races down the street and flies around a corner. In the opposite direction, however, the killer makes a call into an old flip-phone. The phone call connects and then throws the phone into a trash can, heading into the subway.

Back in Thierry’s apartment, a flip-phone underneath the chair rings and a red light clicks on underneath all the wires around Thierry’s wrist.

  
  


“Marshall, do you see that?”

  
  


Hope still doesn’t have the heart to correct anyone nor let go of the Marshall name, because she can’t see her lifeline go flat.

She collects herself and locates the bomb under Thierry’s chair. The timer is counting down the seconds, beginning with eighty-five.

  
  


“It’s a bomb and he’s wielded to it.”

  
  


“HUH??? NO NO.”

  
  


“What the fuck, Marshall? He didn’t need to know that. This is why we can’t have nice things.”

  
  


“Oh, please, he was bound to find out anyway inー” She looks under the chair. “Seventy-two seconds.”

  
  


Hope raced to the table that had all the surgical instruments and began to look at all the tools. She stops as soon as she sees a steel axe. “Well, fuck” crosses across her mind. She has to make a choice and she chooses the axe.

  
  


“MG. Kitchen. Get all the ice you can.” She throws him a portable cooler.

  
  


MG understands that there’s no time to waste, no time for questions. He goes while she grabs the axe. She begins to lower Thierry’s chair so that his back is on the floor.

  
  


“Uh, what’s happening?”

  
  


“I’m going to chop off your hand.”

  
  


“WHAT?!”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson begins to hesitate. _Can she really do this?_ “There’s no other choice, really. And honestly, reattachment surgery has honestly gone on a long way. Deep breaths!”

She had to make a choice, and she chose the axe. Thierry’s hand begins to stretch away from his body. Mikaelson begins to line up the axe with his wrist. MG runs back to the scene with the portable cooler, absolutely not liking the way that this is looking.

  
  


“Marshall, wait, don’t do this!”

  
  


Thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three… Mikaelson lifts the axe backward. Thierry begins to scream. “I’m willing to let go and trust myself.”

She finally swings the axe downward. Thierry’s hand was clean off. The Surgeon would be so proud of her.

Outside the apartment, Stefan’s car skids to a stop and Josie runs up towards him. “I lost him. But Hope and MG, they’re still up there!”

As soon as she speaks, an explosion occurs and a fireball shoots out of the broken window from Thierry’s apartment. Stefan and Josie can’t believe it. Josie grabs Stefan’s shoulder. She’s in disbelief, until—

  
  


“Josie! Stefan!” Hope and MG support Thierry, his wrist is wrapped in an extremely bloody towel. Mikaelson holds the cooler, while Stefan takes her spot with the ambulance coming around the corner. MG is shaken up and looking like a ghost.

  
  


“Stefan, Marshall is insane!”

  
  


They all rush to the ambulance and Mikaelson tries to catch her breath. Josie comes up to her and grabs her arm. Gay panic time.

  
  


“Are you okay?”

  
  


Lying through her teeth, Hope declares, “I’m fine.” She looks at the cooler. “Oh. I have a hand to give.”

She rushes over to the EMTs. Josie begins to look around, confusion painted perfectly clear on her face. The only thing missing was the floating mathematical calculations to realistically show that her confusion is astronomical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you found some parts funny, i tried my best to include some comedic relief similar to canon bright in prodigal son through hope, of course. i also hope you found the ending funny haha.
> 
> also, i made a twitter, it's @k3ytoev3rything.
> 
> next chapter is going to have the family dinner, which will be,,,, very interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 4, i hope you like it :)
> 
> tw / mentions of c-ptsd symptoms throughout, blood, mc violence towards another mc, brief mention of sobriety, mentions of sex dungeons, brief mentions of bdsm, sex work (sort of), guns, brief mention of whip, induced flashback episode, family fighting, alcohol, mc being racist, xenophobic, and fatphobic, night terror episode/flashback episode, drawings of surgical/murder procedures

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

At night, Hope and Josie were in the major case room. It was gritty, it was **real** . The NYPD. Josie was on her cellphone, smacking her gum between words. Mikaelson began to write notes on a whiteboard. She catches her reflection against the window. A few drops of blood that were on her neck were completely dry now. Her hand begins to shake. She begins to stare at it for a second and can’t stop repeating the same question, over and over again in her mind: _What did I do?_

Josie hangs up on the phone. “That was MG. Thierry just went into surgery. The doctors were impressed. They say your axe cut was done with extreme _surgical_ precision.”

  
  


“Yeah. Well, beginner’s luck.”

  
  


Mikaelson quickly wipes the blood away. Josie is staring at her as she fiddles with her pocket.

Once again, Mikaelson looks a second too long. This time? Not just the gay panic, but trying to find the courage to even speak. “Is something on your mind, Detective?”

  
  


“Nope. I mean, MG doesn’t like you one bit and he thinks you’re the killer. But, I’m still on the fence about you, Hope.” She takes a sharp intake of breath before she speaks again. “I’m still trying to figure out so much about you.”

  
  


That made Hope self-conscious. It’s obvious that the only reason Josie said that is because of Hope’s behaviors. Hope Mikaelson is the problem, always. Hope Mikaelson cannot be fixed. She goes on the offense about it. “I understand. Your time in narcotics made you guarded.” Hope Mikaelson has now absorbed too much courage.

Josie makes sure it’s visible to Hope that she’s upset. “You read my file?”

“I didn’t have to. You’re in recovery. You chew nicotine gum but you never smoked. Your teeth are perfect. And you fiddle with your AA chip, the one that’s in your right jacket pocket when you’re nervous or thinking.” It’s then that Josie stops. Hope continues on with the profile. “I think you would do anything for the job. Even getting hooked undercover.” Clueless Hope Mikaelson.

  
  


If Josie was upset before, now she’s extremely pissed off. With every right. Hope profiled her as if she was on the job. This isn’t work related and she passed a boundary. Josie marched towards Hope and grabbed her suit collar so firmly, her knuckles turned white. “You know what I particularly can’t understand about you, Hope Marshall? The fact that you’re this big expert on The Surgeon. Why are you The Surgeon expert? Are you just a big serial killer fan or is it because he’s some local boy? Maybe we should talk to Dr. Mikaelson himself.” Josie gets a little too close to Hope’s face. “Now, tell me, Hope Marshall, why haven’t we done that?” She lets go of her collar, but doesn’t step back at all. “If you don’t like the way I just profiled you and even called you out, consider that your warning. Don’t profile me ever again. Do that on the job, don’t do it outside of it.”

Hope’s hand was shaking. She doesn’t respond to Josie, which is impressive and surprising. Perhaps Hope Marshall exists only when The Surgeon, The Great Evil gets brought up. Both Josie and Hope keep staring at each other, and in the midst of all this turmoil, Stefan comes in.

  
  


“Alright, let’s focus on the killer. He still has one more target.” Stefan walks towards the table, sits down, and motions for both Josie and Hope to sit down at the table as well.

  
  


“His masterpiece. Some believe The Quartet was an experiment to find the most painful way to kill someone. It took The Surgeon four tries to perfect it.”

  
  


“Our guy is also into pain, too.” For the first time, Josie looks at Stefan while answering to Hope.

  
  


Stefan began to notice some tension in the room. He quickly says the first thing that pops to mind in relation to the case. “I’m betting Victim Four is another one of Thierry’s clients, just like the previous three were. Alright, who wants to visit a sex dungeon?” Stefan is not excited at all that he has to go to a sex dungeon, “Anything for the case,” he thinks, but someone else is.

Hope, clueless as ever and a total idiot, begins to say “I’m in,” when Stefan interjects and says “Hope, I swear to you, don’t you dare say a single comment to that question.”

* * *

The next day, Stefan, Hope, and Josie are in Cortlandt Alley in Chinatown. They head downward towards the dilapidated alley. It’s as if the alley is stuck in the 1800s. On their right, a red light bulb and a neon sign that says, “Bound and Gagged” appears in their peripheral.

Stefan motions for them to get in a circle so as to talk out the plans. “Let’s keep a low profile, alright? A lot of people come in here. I mean… frequent this place.”

  
  


“Got it.” Josie looks at Hope, for the first time since their argument. “Are you okay with going in?”

  
  


Hope turns to Josie. The way that Josie spoke, it’s as if she has concern for Hope Mikaelson. No, that can’t be true. Why would anyone care about her in _THAT_ way?

She shakes her head a little bit to ease her thoughts, but not so that it makes it seem like she’s replying with a no. The gay panic begins to settle in again. “Oh yes, my pain threshold is extraordinary. Not to brag or anything.”

Hope then begins to wonder why she even said that, especially right before they’re heading inside a sex dungeon, when she’s not referencing sexual pain. She was just trying to make a really bad joke about her mental health. She doesn’t pay attention to Josie looking away and beginning to blush.

Stefan has become the new expert at rolling his eyes at everything Hope says of this nature. He motions for them to follow him and all three of them begin their descent towards the basement.

Bound and Gagged was a prestigious sex dungeon. It’s high-end, it’s tasteful indeed, and, most importantly, extremely scary. Josie begins to look around. “They’re watching us.”

She nods towards the security cameras. Hope ignores her entirely and begins to walk towards the Wall of Restraints. “Wall of Restraints” is on the very top in bright colors. Gags, cuffs, and many other objects that are unknown to Hope. It’s clear: if it’s latex and/or painful, Bound and Gagged has it. BDSM galore, along with—

  
  


“Oh, wow! A hanging leather strap cage! I tried sleeping in one of these once.” Stefan looks at Mikaelson, entirely done with her shit, arms crossed. Josie, however, looks away and blushes, again. This is all like a screencap of something with no context, except it’s in real life and all focused on Hope Mikaelson and her weird gay panic comments.

  
  


“Can I interest you in one of our group packages?”

  
  


How surprising, a dominatrix. Esther Lavoie. In her late 40s, 100% a lawyer if all lawyers could wear black latex.

  
  


“I’m Detective Salvatore, NYPD. Are you Mistress Jessi?”

  
  


“Yes, but my real name is Esther Lavoie.”

  
  


“Esther was my grandmother’s name.”

  
  


Stefan chooses to ignore Hope. “Esther, we’re here about one of your employees. Thierry Vanchure.”

Esther laughs. “Oh, god. What did that freak do now? Is he in lock up?”

  
  


“No. Surgery.”

  
  


“Why? What happened?”

  
  


Hope, way too enthusiastically, smiles and begins to rub the back of her neck with her right hand while lifting her left hand. “I cut his hand off.”

That immediately gets Esther’s attention. Stefan takes this time to bring out the crime scene photos and begins to show them to Esther.

  
  


“Three of his regulars have turned up dead. We need a list of all his clients.”

  
  


“I can’t do that. All of Thierry’s clients are influential people and really scary.”

  
  


Hope looks at the Wall of Restraints again. “Hmm… Three strand Japanese jute rope. The exact gauge our killer used. I’m impressed you have it.”

Esther begins to walk towards the wall herself, towards Hope. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Josie is faster than Esther. She makes it to Hope and stands in front of her, extending out her left arm, grabbing the grip of her gun with her right hand. “That we’re about to arrest you on suspicion of murder and for intent to attack a civilian consultant. Is that scary enough for you?”

Stefan slowly heads towards Hope and Josie and stands in front of them. “So how about you give us that list?”

Esther nods. She exists down a dark pathway with Stefan following close behind—

Stefan falls backwards. A heavy door hits him in the face and the locks click. Stefan’s fall to the ground was broken somewhat by Hope and Josie, as they each grab one of his arms. “Don’t worry about me. Josie, check the back!”

Josie runs out the back. Stefan stands up and runs towards the front. “Stay here!”

Stefan knew better than to tell Hope Mikaelson to stay behind. She begins to search around, fascinated with everything weird Bound and Gagged had to offer. One of the cameras peers down on her and she notices the wire. As she starts to trace the wire, she asks herself, “How can it run behind the bookcase?” She thought it was a smart idea to push the bookcase. It rolls back and she enters the corridor.

The corridor is dim and filled with peep holes. Hope continues walking but stops abruptly when she hears the click clack of heels from behind. When she turns around, Esther is in front of her.

  
  


“Esther. Don’t move.”

  
  


“Get out of my way.”

  
  


Esther begins to reach for something. Hope wonders what it is, but she immediately feels something around her neck, thinning the air she breathes. A whip was fired at Hope Mikaelson and constricts. Hope’s eyes bulge as she tugs on the whip but falls down on her knees. 

  
  


“I didn’t kill anyone!”

  
  


Hope struggles for some air to enter her lungs. “Yo-You have the ri-ri-right to remainㅡ”

From behind Esther comes a click. “Drop the whip, bitch.” It was Josie, pointing the gun at Esther’s head.

Once they exit the dungeon, Mikaelson begins to flip through a black book. “Well, that was pretty fun. Who do we call first?” Her voice is still a little raspy from having the whip around her throat.

Stefan takes the book away from Hope. “Nobody. The District Attorney’s on that list. We gotta run these past Thierry. Doctors say he’ll be up soon.”

Josie checks her phone and sees a message from MG. “FDNY gave the clear on his condo.”

  
  


“Do a sweep with MG.”

  
  


As Josie leaves, Hope gets a text from her mom. “ **_Be here tonight at 8. Love you, Mom._ **” She sends a quick reply back. Then, she gets a call from Nik.

  
  


“Don’t worry, I’ll catch up soonㅡ Hey, Nik.”

  
  


Nik is at the news station, behind the Avid. There are notes everywhere. He has his phone put on speaker.

  
  


“Sup, you’re coming to dinner tonight, right?”

  
  


“Yeah, of course. Can’t wait for the petit soiree”

  
  


“Well, if you don’t come tonight, I’m just letting you know right now that I’ll be reporting that the daughter of The Surgeon, The Great Evil, is working with the NYPD on the new serial killer investigation.”

  
  


Hope stops walking and stays silent. Once again, a question repeats in her mind over and over again: _How does he know this?_ It turns out, the reason Nik Mikaelson knows is that on one of the editing monitors is Hope, entering the Astoria Tower with Stefan.

  
  


“Wow, blackmailing me so quickly, aren’t you?”

  
  


“One hundred percent.”

* * *

Hope Mikaelson had been dreading this moment since she landed in New York a few days ago. She’s standing in front of the Mikaelson Townhouse doors, afraid to face the Mikaelsons after being gone for ten years. These doors have the painful memory of seeing her father getting taken to a police cruiser. This house has the painful memory of her serial killer father etched into its core, as if it was fabricated with it before her father even existed, before her father was made.

The doors begin to open and Hope freezes. The flashbacks come back to her mind in waves and she closes her eyes, letting them take her over. But it’s the voices of two women that snap her out of it all.

  
  


“Look Freya, it’s our dear niece, Hope.”

  
  


“Indeed it is, sorry Hope, you’ll already have to excuse us, we had a few big girl drinks already.”

  
  


In unison, Freya and Rebekah remark, “We’ve missed you so much.”

  
  


Hope looks towards the sound of the voices. Freya Mikaelson and Rebekah Mikaelson. Not pixels on a screen, in truth flesh and blood in front of her.

Freya and Rebekah Mikaelson, sisters to The Surgeon, The Great Evil ─ Freya in her late 50s, Rebekah early 40s. Born and raised in Mikaelson Townhouse, Upper East Side, New York. Personalities intertwined, it’s as if they’re twin sisters, but in reality, it’s always been truth that Hope has more of a connection to Freya than to Rebekah and that’s the one thing that differs between them. 

Freya and Rebekah together raised Hope along with Hayley, a godsend for Hayley because she knew she couldn’t do this on her own, not entirely. For Rebekah, it was a blessing in disguise and looking after Hope, being a second mother of sorts to Hope, was the chance that fate gave her to raise the child she could never have. For Freya, it was a chance to see her niece grow and have her be part of the family. Hope was very lucky to have not one, not two, but three women who cared for her so much. To Hope, this was what “always and forever” meant to her, a concept engraved into the foundation of her mind, a concept etched into her heart as a world within a dream, but a dream world that has consequences in the real world.

Hope felt as if seeing her two aunts would cause her to fall back into the flashback episode, but all it did was cause relief. Relief that her aunts don’t hate her, but rather are fond of her and want her in their lives. For so long, all Hope Mikaelson ever wanted was two things: to be liberated from her father and to once again feel part of the family that she believed hated her, the cause of the hatred, a reason that has kept her up at night more than several times throughout the past twenty years.

As they motion for her to come in, Hope extends her arms and hugs her aunts. Freya and Rebekah hug her as if their world started and ended with Hope Mikaelson. They let go after some time and Hope walked further in.

Mikaelson Townhouse is fantastically big. It was built well over two hundred years ago. The style is immaculate and entirely different to Hope’s loft. At least here there were no murder weapons on display. There was, however, a very elegant crown molding. This is why Hope made sure to wear her best black open-front slim ankle pants suit, adorned with a collared white one-button blouse to dinner.

Inside the dining room, Hayley and Nik were talking, wine glasses in hand. Keelin was trying to connect the speakers so the instrumental music filled the whole room. The moment Hope stepped into the room, their conversation ended and they both hugged Hope as well. Keelin hadn’t noticed until Hope went towards her to help her with the music. She smiled fondly at Hope. It’s then that they all sit down. Elijah Mikaelson was nowhere to be found, which was odd. 

The dinner was going well so far. One of the topics of conversation was Hope getting fired from the FBI, but it wasn’t a taunting conversation and they all felt bad about the situation. Nik surprisingly didn’t mention that Hope was now a consultant for the NYPD.

In the midst of all this, Elijah Mikaelson walks in. Hope’s fear began to rise like bile through every square inch of her body.

Elijah Mikaelson, late 50s. He was _the_ WASPy New Yorker that wielded a sort of sarcasm thinner and sharper than a katana’s blade, a New Yorker raised to feel like a king everywhere he went. Elijah’s whole aura screamed The Great Evil’s brother, his loyalty running deeper than it should.

  
  


“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite niece coming from on high to mingle with civilians.”

  
  


Hope was too scared to speak. Her secret running through her mind, the one thing that changed her relationship with her uncle, caused them to be estranged. “I-I’m your only niece.”

  
  


“You are, and that’s why you’re my favorite.” He moves towards the dinner table and sits at the head. That was the chair reserved for Klaus when he was still living in the townhouse.

  
  


“I must tell you, Hope, I lunched with the Egyptian Ambassador last week. Mohamad Bin No-Fly-List. Some nonsense like that.” Hope rolls her eyes at the blatant racism and xenophobia, but before she could tell him to stop being an ass, he continues with the ramble. “He happens to have a lovely daughter that’s single. A bit curvy but acceptable.” Now it's fatphobia. How wonderful. “You could ask her out now that you have some free time.”

  
  


Nik Mikaelson interjects before Hope once again could speak. “Free time?”

There it is. The slip up was going to happen eventually, and now was the time. All hell breaks loose now.

Hope shakes her head slightly, indicating to Nik to stop talking. Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t miss a single thing.

  
  


“Hope Andrea Mikaelson, I can spot a guilty glance at a hundred yards. You can’t keep secrets from me.” He smiles. The same smile The Surgeon gives. “Nik, give in and tell your uncle what’s going on.”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson wasn’t the only one afraid of Elijah. Nik was, too. The entire family is collectively afraid of Elijah Mikaelson. He is the reason that “always and forever” had consequences, why “always and forever” was tainted. “She’s working for the NYPD.”

Hope shoots a look at Elijah. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  
  


“Disturb _me_? I’m the least disturbed person you know.”

  
  


Hope laughs, her laugh mixed with fear and sarcasm. And a newfound surge of courage. “Oh, were you not kidding? Because I personally don’t care who you went to eat with, who his daughter is, and I sure as hell won’t tolerate your bigotry.”

No, he wasn’t.

Just then, the housekeeper, Sofya, walks in. She clears out all the soup bowls as Hope and Elijah stare daggers at each other.

Everyone is frozen in place, Hayley is in disbelief at Elijah. Hayley always knew that Elijah cared about the Mikaelsons, but he showed it in all the wrong ways. She also knew that Elijah blamed Hope for Klaus being arrested, for reasons unknown to her. Hayley breaks the family silence, it was a damned if I do, damned if I don’t situation. “Thank you, Sofya.”

“Elijah, back down. Chill out. I will not let you talk to my daughter that way. All of us know that Hope is helping the NYPD catch a new serial killer. We all support her. Where have you been to support her? Ever?”

  
  


“And why is that any of her concern?”

  
  


At this point, Hope had a mix of fear with adrenaline that was powering the faux courage. She was also in a damned if I do, damned if I don’t situation like the rest of the family. She knows that saying this could alter so many things, make things worse with Elijah. But she says it anyways, she’s not quiet, little Hope Marshall anymore and she was gonna _scream_.

  
  


“Becauseーthe new serial killer is copying The Surgeon.”

  
  


Freya and Rebekah let out a gasp. Hayley turns over, gets up, and heads to the bar cart to pour herself a scotch. Keelin is trying to be a moral support for all of them. Nik was the only one shocked that spoke out. “What?! Is Uncle Klaus a person of interest?”

  
  


“No. Maybe. Nik, you can’t report this. It would cause a mass panic.”

  
  


Hayley comes back with her scotch in her hand and sits down. “People should panic. He’s a monster. Promise me you won’t go see him.”

Hope takes a moment to look at her mom. She wishes there was something she could do to help her mom cope better, because her mom deserves the world. For now, Hope just grabs her hand. “I won’t, I _can’t_.”

  
  


“Are you sure?” She takes another sip. “Because he would love that. You asking him for help. Don’t let him back into your life. He will destroy you. Take it from me, someone he’s completely destroyed from the inside out.”

  
  


Hope visibly winces and begins to shift uncomfortably in her chair. Elijah Mikaelson stays quiet for the rest of the night, smiling and enjoying the commotion that he’s begun.

* * *

In another part of New York City, MG is at Thierry’s apartment. The entire apartment is in shambles and filled with ashes. While MG is searching the place with NYPD Techs, Josie arrives. MG motions for her to come in. “Over here. How’s Dr. Death?”

Truth be told, Josie is confused. Confused about how she feels about Hope Marshall. There’s just something about Hope Marshall and she’s trying to understand why these strong and intense feelings exist.

  
  


“Hope? Weird. Absolutely weird. Besides the weird, I’m trying to place what exactly is so… Captivating and intriguing.”

  
  


MG raises an eyebrow and looks at Josie, but she just ignores him and grabs her flashlight. It glints on something on the floor. Josie wipes away black soot, revealing a lacquer box with a crystal dragon top. She grabs it and rolls it in her hand. Just then, the lock clicks and the box opens.

MG looks at it carefully. “Yo! What is that?”

The box contained three rolled-up drawings. Beautiful, near-perfect, anatomical renderings of The Surgeon’s method. Josie’s breath hitches.

Back in the case room, Hope is peering at the board filled with pictures from all the crime scenes. She’s now wearing a grey suit and oxford shoes. She reaches for her coffee. All the coffee is gone and she stands up. She walks through the bullpen, not noticing at first, but once she realizes, she stops walking. A question starts to float in her mind: **_Where is everyone?_ **

The entire precinct is empty.

  
  


“Hello?”

  
  


She begins to walk again and as she turns the corner, everything changes. She’s back to being ten years old again.

Young Hope Mikaelson is upstairs and exploring. It’s late and the wind is screaming. She goes to the staircase and it leads her to the foyer. The door in front of her opens on its own. She’s cautious at first, but decides to go through it. It leads her to another staircase that takes her to the basement. A beam of light outlines the new door. Noises come from behind it. Young Hope Mikaelson stares at the door with eyes wide open, attentive to every detail. Once again, the door opens by itself and reveals a backlit Dr. Klaus Mikaelson.

  
  


“Hope? You know you’re not supposed to be back here.”

  
  


Back in the case room, Hope Mikaelson is completely conked out. All the cops behind her are coming and going to different areas. Her eyes are darting behind her eyelids.

REM sleep.

Young Hope Mikaelson sits at her father’s work table with a cup of cocoa. She notices a meticulous drawing of a dissected body. 

  
  


“Is this a new procedure?”

  
  


Klaus rolls up the paper. “Something like that. Now finish the cocoa and go back to bed.”

She gets up and starts to leave, but admires first at all of Klaus’ tools. Especially how the light glints on all of them. That’s when she hears it. Scratches. The sound is coming from a big metal case that’s against the wall.

In the precinct, Hope is sweating. Trembling. It’s now more than ever that she needs the bondage restraints that she sleeps with.

Young Hope Mikaelson freezes. The noise is getting louder.

  
  


“Dad?”

  
  


No response from Klaus. She keeps moving towards the metal case. The scratching gets even louder.

  
  


“Dad? What’s in here?”

  
  


No response from Klaus. The sound is deafening.

She reaches for the handle. As she opens the case, she looks inside and she’s dying to scream.

Hope Mikaelson screams for her younger self. She’s still half asleep inside of the precinct, battling her own nightmares. Josie walks in and sees Hope in her current state and rushes towards her. 

  
  


“No! Don’t look! Don’t一”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson, still asleep and out of control, pushes Josie. Josie lands on the floor. All the cops around them begin to draw their guns and point them at Hope. In fear of what’s happening, Josie rushes towards her.

  
  
  


“Hope, Hope!”

  
  


She looks at all the cops. “Get away from her! She’s asleep! Put your guns down right now!”

Josie gets closer to Hope. “Hope? It’s okay, you can relax now.” She kneels down, touches her head, and slightly hugs Hope. That’s when Hope wakes up and hugs her right back with full force. She’s not doing this because she thinks Josie cares about her, she’s doing this for her ten year old self, the one that needed the hug back then. Josie tenses and her heart races a little bit, but she finally hugs her back.

  
  


“You’re safe now. It was just a dream. A really bad dream.”

  
  


Hope’s breathing is frantic. She’s got tears threatening to come out in waves. If only Josie knew who she really was, if only Josie knew that this wasn’t a dream, that this was another pavor nocturnus, a night terror ─ she wouldn’t be here comforting her right now. Hope Mikaelson deserves nothing.

* * *

Inside Stefan’s office, Hope is sitting down. Framed photos are aligned all over his desk. Photos of his wife, kids, and brother. All happier days, happier times. Stefan is leaning on his desk, waiting for Hope to talk.

  
  


“They’re called pavor nocturnus. Night terrors. They’re not fun. But on the bright side, they’re ruining my life.”

  
  


Outside in the bullpen, Josie looks at them from her desk. Hope notices and stares back at her, always a second too long. She focuses back on Stefan. “I didn’t hurt her, did I?”

Hope asked genuinely, but Stefan just laughed in her face. “Don’t flatter yourself, Josie is from the Bronx. She’s tougher than any of us.”

She smiles, looking at the picture of Stefan’s wife.

  
  


“Like Caroline…”

  
  


“Yeah, a Bronx girl.”

  
  


Stefan rubs his wedding ring. He can’t bear to take it off. It would haunt him.

  
  


“She loved you like family. Worried about you every time you went to go see your father. She slept easier after you left for Quantico. You were far away from him.”

  
  


“Don’t worry, Stefan. I’m fine. I’ve got it all under control.”

  
  


“Under control? You chopped a man’s hand off. A killer’s copying your father’s crimes. And six cops nearly shot you _right over there_. You are anything but in control.”

  
  


Hope shot up out of her chair and went on the defense immediately. “What does that mean? You agree with the FBI?”

  
  


“I never said that.”

  
  


“I’m not leaving! There’s a fourth victim out there. I can save her. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  
  


“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  
  


Stefan begins to feel conflicted. He intakes as much air as possible and hands her the drawings that were found in Thierry’s apartment.

  
  


“We found these.”

  
  


Hope is completely stunned. “These are The Surgeon’s, the first three methods from his Quartet. **My father drew these**.”

  
  


“How’d our killer get them? Your dad’s locked up at Claremont.”

  
  


A heavy beat. “I could go see him. He’ll talk to me, he’ll see me.”

  
  


“No, there’s got to be another way─”

  
  


“Don’t worry, Stefan. It’s just this once…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was heavy but next one is heavier,,,
> 
> anyways, chapter 5 is gonna be posted now. i wrote two chapters, surprise!
> 
> follow me on twitter, my @ is @k3ytoev3rything


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas, happy new year, here's chapter 5!
> 
> tw / mentions of c-ptsd symptoms throughout, mentions of psychiatric hospital, fractured marriage, obvious daddy issues, surgical/murder drawings, allusions to sex dungeon, mentions of hunting and animal skins, syringes and other medical/surgical devices, guns, knives, possible suicidal inclination, mentions of murder

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Inside a taxi, Hope Mikaelson stares out the window and observes the Manhattan streets at night. The lights of a giant building in the form of a triangle come into her peripheral. Claremont Psychiatric Hospital.

Mister Damon, much older but still the kind man he’s always been, guides Hope down a high-tech hall. Vastly impressive what they’ve done to renovate Claremont.

  
  


“It’s so good to see you again, Hope. Lot’s changed around here since you last visited. Wait until you see the new call.”

  
  


Mister Damon stops at a metal door and notices that Hope is growing nervous.

  
  


“Remember, he’s just your dad.”

  
  


“No, my father is a monster.”

  
  


Mister Damon looks at Hope for one last time and wishes her good luck. Then, he punches in the code, and the metal doors open.

Klaus Mikaelson’s cell at Claremont Psychiatric is brand new, big, and amazing. All around in the back, there are windows tucked in deep and decent sized bookshelves with all of his research. Klaus is standing up with his hand manacled. He looks up and sees his daughter coming in.

Between the time Hope walks into the door and Klaus looks up at her, Hope’s heartbeat became erratic.

  
  


“Hope! My littlest one! It’s been way too long.”

  
  


“Hello, Dr. Mikaelson.” Hope begins to take in the room as it is. “This is… nice.”

  
  


“You’d be amazed at what our Saudi friends will pay a disgraced Cardiothoracic surgeon.”

  
  


“Well, you did operate on two presidents.”

  
  


“And I saved Dick Cheney’s life. Twice. They should have me locked up for that one alone!”

  
  


Hope  _ almost _ smiles. Klaus looks at Hope, concerned for her health.

  
  


“Your eyes. You look exhausted.”

  
  


“Yet you look fresh as a daisy. Funny how life works, right?”

  
  


“Well, I’m vegan now, and I haven’t seen your step-mother in twenty years. So! What’s new?”

  
  


Hope’s step-mother. A topic that she never wanted to revisit, but here she is, revisiting an even older topic at Claremont, so it seems like there was no avoiding her.

Aurora de Martel wasn’t even a mother to Hope. The only reason she’s in the picture is because Klaus and Hayley were just a minor fling. Nothing more, nothing less. But, Klaus fell in love with Aurora, and they ended up getting married when Hope was three years old, thus apparently making her Hope’s stepmother legally. None of the Mikaelsons nor Hayley herself ever liked Aurora; they despised her because they knew of her personality and the kind of family she was from. They always believed she pretended to care for Hope because she was married to Klaus, a ploy to look good in the family’s eyes, but they saw right through her. Hope, being young and naive, did believe at one point in her life that Aurora cared for her.

If the Mikaelsons were popular because of Klaus, the de Martels were famous because of the fact that Aurora’s father was a Count. With the prospect of Klaus being one of the most famous surgeons across the country and Aurora having her father’s inheritance, they felt unstoppable, and they  _ were  _ unstoppable. But everything changed when Klaus was arrested. They weren’t divorced, but their relationship fractured and became irreparable. Hope always wondered if Aurora had any idea who her father was. Did Aurora know Klaus Mikaelson, the man who was always researching new surgical methods, saving lives, or did she know Klaus Mikaelson, the man who lived to kill?

Hope snapped out of her thoughts. “You have a copycat.”

  
  


“Really? I’m flattered. And deeply concerned. Troubled. All these normal feelings.”

  
  


“Save the bullshit, Dr. Mikaelson. I know you’re helping him.”

  
  


Hope lays out the sketches on his desk.

  
  


“My drawings! How did you get these?”

  
  


“Our killer. He left them behind.”

  
  


Hope begins to notice Klaus’ watch. Klaus wears his watch inward, just as how she does as well. Reflectively, she switches her watch to face outward. Her father’s words begin to ring in her mind:  **we’re the same** .

  
  


“He already completed these three? Yikes. You’ve got a smart one on your hands. What gauge syringe did he use?”

  
  


“Once again, I’m asking you to save the bullshit for someone else. I didn’t come here to discuss the finer points of homicide.”

  
  


“I quite enjoyed a seven gauge. Quicker delivery. And more painful to boot. Tricky on victims with smaller veins, but that was part of the fun. The sport of it all.”

  
  


Hope turns away in disgust.

  
  


“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy! Let’s talk about murder. It’s our thing.”

  
  


“Spare me the ‘we’re the same’ lecture. Who is he? Why are you helping him?”

  
  


“I’m not. I drew these for my own collection.” Klaus points towards the bookshelves. “My study of murder. A personal journey. Still debating this title. I like  _ My Life as a Killer,  _ but it feels a little first-thought.” He looks away for a brief moment. “These are from Book 19 on the second shelf.”

  
  


Hope finds the journal rather quickly and opens it up. Four pages have been torn out. She goes back to the desk and grabs the drawings and aligns the drawings to the torn edges—a match.

  
  


“See? They were stolen. I was robbed. This is an outrage!”

  
  


“Three women died, and all you can concern yourself with is how your ideas were supposedly robbed? Great job, no wonder you’re the perfect serial killer, a true predatory psychopath.”

  
  


“I mean, sure, yes. That’s also an outrage, I guess. There can be multiple outrages. But it wasn’t me. I’m totally cut off.”

Hope is bothered that her father isn’t replying to any of her comments, but she lets that slide for the sake of the case. She looks about, mulling this all, thinking about everything.

  
  


“But someone got in here. How new is this, the cell?”

  
  


“Ten months. What are you thinking?”

  
  


“You had to leave when they built this.”

  
  


“Oh, BINGO! That’s good, smart! There were designers and architects.”

  
  


“Who? Who built this?”

  
  


“I-I can’t tell you, Hope. Helping you means I’m helping the police and that goes against everything I stand for.”

  
  


Hope looks at him carefully. Klaus is holding his hands together, looking at the ground. “I can tell. You’re afraid. Not of the killer, not even of the police. You’re afraid of me.”

  
  


“You?”

  
  


“Yes. It’s obvious in the way you’re holding your hands, the way that you’re breathing, even the way that you’re looking at the floor.” Klaus then begins to look at the door. “And now, the door. You’re afraid that I’ll leave and I’ll never come back to see you, right? That’s the whole thing you have going on. That’s why you’re dragging this visit much longer than it needs to be. Alright, I’ll wager with you, Dr. Mikaelson. You help me with this, and I’ll keep visiting you.”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson just made the biggest mistake of her life. But Klaus doesn’t waste any time giving the answer. He’s gonna see his littlest one again, that’s all that matters. “Saltzman Construction. I consulted on Alaric Saltzman’s case after his heart attack.”

  
  


“Alaric Saltzman, the man who owns half the city?”

  
  


“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re exaggerating. Your mother and step-mother respectfully own more than half.”

  
  


Hope ignores all of that and just keeps pushing forward in hopes that Klaus will talk more. “Wait. He came here? Alaric Saltzman was here? With these journals?”

Klaus nods. “Tell me. Did he strike you as someone who might commit murder?”

  
  


“Oh, yes. He struck a lot of people that way. He had his heart attack while whipping some submissive in a sex dungeon. Naughty boy.”

  
  


Oh, great. So she does have the same, dumb humor as her dad. She tries hard to ignore the fact that they both used the same joke, grabbed her phone, and dialed Stefan. “Stefan. Where are you?”

At the hospital, various police officers lead Stefan and MG through the lobby. “The hospital. Thierry just woke up.”

  
  


“I need you to check his client list. Is there a man by the name of Alaric Saltzman?”

  
  


Stefan holds the binder that has all of Thierry’s clients and begins to look for Alaric’s name. “Yep, he’s here.  **A. Saltzman** .”

  
  


“Alaric met The Surgeon. He saw his journals.  **He’s the killer.** ”

  
  


“Hope, leave Claremont right now. Meet us at Saltzman Tower.”

  
  


Hope hangs up. It’s then that Klaus looks at her again. “How’s my old friend, Stefan?”

  
  


And this is when Hope leaves because she knows what old friend means, does not want to even think of that implication. “Goodbye, Dr. Mikaelson.”

She begins to walk away and Klaus calls out to her. “It was good to see you again. I love you.”

Hope Mikaelson stops, frozen in her tracks. Her mind repeating the words over and over again in her mind, causing the flashbacks to rise and flood her psyche once again. But this time, she’s not closing her eyes. Instead, she turns around and looks at Klaus dead in the eyes.

  
  


“No, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to stand there and tell me that you love me. You’re a monster, you’re incapable of love. I am nothing like you, Klaus Mikaelson.”

  
  


She turns back around and leaves Klaus’ cell, not for the last time.

* * *

Late at night, Hope Mikaelson was walking into the Saltzman Tower in her best suit yet. Forget the black open-front slim ankle pants suit with the collared white one-button blouse, this one was over the top. It was another black suit, but this one was a one-button jacket with straight-legged pants. She was wearing a white turtleneck underneath and wearing black closed heels. There’s a party at Saltzman Tower, might as well look paradigmatic when they arrest him.

In the lobby, New York City’s finest and richest families were also in tuxes and gowns. What Hope Mikaelson should have suspected yet was still surprised regardless was seeing Josie. She was wearing a black blazer with a light navy blue (sorta) oversized sweater, dark blue skinny jeans, and black lace-up doc martens. It wasn’t anything formal, but she still looked fantastic, to Hope, anyways. Hope’s gay panic began to settle in again.

  
  


“Marshall.”

  
  


“Josie.”

  
  


“Stefan and MG are still with Thierry.”

  
  


“Got it. Do you know what kind of party is going on here?”

  
  


“No idea, it’s some charity event that the Saltzman’s hold every single year for their club.”

  
  


Hope gulps. “Their club? Which club?”

  
  


“What does it matter? Are you a member or something?”

  
  


“Uh, let’s hope not.”

  
  


Indeed, Hope Mikaelson was part of the club that was having their charity event. But she wasn’t the only member of her family who was. As Josie and Hope walk inside to where the main event was being held, Hope eyes her mother and her step-mother.

Hayley Marshall and Aurora de Martel, as a matter of fact, do own most of New York City. Their problem was that no one wanted their money. Hayley was always looking for a charity in which aligned with her mission to help protect troubled children, Aurora was just looking for a charity that worked for the better of humanity in general. Their main difference was that Hayley always kept insisting by always holding professional meetings with non-profits in the Mikaelson Townhouse dining room, making sure that if they were to take Marshall money, to keep it anonymous so as to not cause problems for the non-profit in question. 

If you had asked Aurora before Klaus got arrested if she was interested in helping humanity, she would’ve laughed in your face. But her world really did crumble into pieces the moment Klaus was arrested. She felt lucky that she wasn’t there the day of his arrest, indeed. But it was hard for New York City to believe Aurora cared when she was The Surgeon’s, The Great Evil’s wife and it was hard for the Marshalls/Mikaelsons to believe she cared when they already didn’t like her and she did nothing to prove she cared, not even be there for Hope, the step-daughter she so cared for until Aurora figured out Hope’s darkest secret.

Hope began to look around to find a place where she can talk to Josie and not be recognized by either of them. She finds an empty stand-up table and headed towards it with Josie. Her back was to the entire crowd, no way that either of them could see her now. “What do we know about Alaric Saltzman?”

  
  


“Old money, lots of it.” Josie motions for Hope to look behind her at the giant photo hanging. “That’s him and his wife, Jo.”

Hope looks back as fast as she could. “Hmm. So, he is bald.”

Josie looks at her and raises an eyebrow. Hope stares right back and began to look at every single intricate detail of Josie’s face, like that small scar she has a little bit under her lower lip and the way that her eyebrow just looks great. Her heartbeat is racing, but why? She decides to ignore everything. “Nothing, just something I came up with when I was doing my profile, but never really told the team. I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  
  


“Right. Well, let’s go find him.”

  
  


“Uh, before we do that, we have a slight problem, Detective.”

  
  


Josie reaches for her gun and Hope looks at her right hand. It’s a pretty right hand to hol-

  
  


“Not that kind. Do you see the woman in the blue dress?”

  
  


“Yes?”

  
  


“Well, that’s my mother. Now, do you see the woman with the black dress suit?”

  
  


“Yes?”

  
  


“.... She’s my step-mother.”

  
  


“Whoa, definitely wasn’t expecting that one.”

  
  


“Mhm, are either of them looking this way?”

  
  


“They both are.”

  
  


“Maybe you should draw your gun now.”

  
  


“Or, maybe we should split up.”

  
  


Before Hope could protest against the idea, Josie had already left towards where Jo was standing. That left Hope to deal with avoiding both Hayley and Aurora at the same time. But, by sheer luck, she gets a phone call.

Josie approaches Jo. “Mrs. Saltzman?”

  
  


“It’s Jo. And you are?”

  
  


“Detective Parker, NYPD. I’m looking for your husband. It’s in regards to Thierry Vanchure.”

  
  


Jo looks around nervously. “Let’s talk in my husband’s office.”

They head upstairs and stand in front of tall, wooden doors. Jo opens them and once inside, Josie looks around. There are lamps all over the place with dim lighting, so everything was dark. Skins of animals, presumably animals that Alaric hunted, were seen in abundance. The fireplace was lit. All of the seats inside his office were fine leather. Josie closes the door behind her.

  
  


“This is your husband’s office?” Josie never thought that this room, with how dark it is, could be an office.

  
  


“Um, Alaric’s out on safari. We can speak freely here.”

  
  


Hope picks up the phone. “Marshall.” She winces a little bit.

It was from Stefan. “Hope, listen to me, Vanchure just woke up. It wasn’t Alaric Saltzman that was Thierry’s client. It was his wife, Jo Laughlin. She hired him.”

“She was cheating on her husband with another dom. Jo is the fourth victim. He’s here.” Hope hangs up the phone. She looks around for Josie, but she’s nowhere to be found. Panic starts to settle in Hope. Quickly, she looks for places that Josie could’ve gone to and finds a doorway that leads to a path of stairs. She starts heading for the stairs when she sees that Hayley and Aurora are talking, civilly. She panics even more. She turns around and heads back, walking to the other side of the room in hopes that there’s a doorway there. No doorway. Hope has no choice but to cross through the doorway that’s next to the two women she’s trying to avoid at all costs.

  
  


Hope heads back. She sees that Hayley and Aurora are still talking. She intakes as much air as she can as she speed walks towards the doorway. In the moment of her crossing the doorway, Aurora looks at Hope walking, and her entire demeanor changes. Hope Mikaelson, her step-daughter that she used to care about so much, after twenty years.

Back in Alaric’s office, Jo walks towards his desk. “What the hell?”

Josie perks up and heads to the desk herself. When she gets there, she finds that there’s a set of five syringes laying on a white cloth along with the final surgeon sketch. Josie mentally yells the word “fuck” and reaches for her gun. All of a sudden, everything goes dark.

Jo turns around, startled by a noise. She sees that Detective Parker has fallen to the floor, unconscious. Her husband, Alaric Saltzman, standing behind Detective Parker’s body.

Alaric Saltzman, late 40s, everything Hope described but worse, athletic, hollow-eyed, standing over Josie Parker now.

  
  


“Alaric! What are you doing? I thought you said you were hunting.”

  
  


“Oh, I am.” He moves closer. “Go to the door and lock it.”

  
  


Jo is scared. Scared is an understatement, but she heads to the door.

  
  


“Decisions, decisions.” Hope is at the doorway to Alaric’s office, looking for Josie. She sees her on the floor, by the feet of Alaric Saltzman. He grabs Josie’s gun and clicks it.

  
  


“How are you going to do it?” She starts to walk towards him. “The gun’s too loud and I’m guessing you don’t have enough paralytic agent for two.”

  
  


He points Josie’s gun at her. “Who are you?”

  
  


She swallows. “Hope Marshall. I’m unarmed. I”m a profiler. You’re still in control.”

  
  


“A profiler? You think this is about control?” He still has his gun pointed at her, without noticing that Josie has regained consciousness. Hope is standing in front of him now.

  
  


“Yes. Controlling yourself. Your passion, what you want, what you desire, you have to cause it pain. Especially your wife. You dominated Jo like everyone else. And then came your heart attack, and at your weakest moment…”

  
  


“She betrayed me for Thierry.”

  
  


“You lost control.” At this point, Josie has regained full consciousness and has noticed that Hope is talking to Alaric, slowing everything down as much as she can before he can do anything. 

  
  


“You had to punish her, make her feel the most pain imaginable.” Josie goes to her pocket, reaches for her knife. “It only makes sense that The Surgeon saved your life.” Josie is about to stab the area where the tibia is when Alaric notices and steps on her arm. Josie whimpers.

  
  


Hope looks at Josie and it hurts her to see her in pain. She had to make a choice, and she makes a rather rash decision. She closes her eyes and mentally says sorry to Josie.

Alaric looks back at Hope again, still pointing Josie’s gun at her, walking slowly towards her. “After he saved my life, I became obsessed with his work. I studied him. He inflicted pain like nobody else. That’s where I learned to do this.” He points the gun at Josie and is about to shoot when Hope gets on her knees, grabs the syringe, and points it towards her upper left arm. It looks deep already, point of incision.

  
  


“Stop, don’t. You want to live up to The Surgeon, The Great Evil?”

  
  


Alaric looks slightly terrified, all because Hope is about to use that paralytic agent that he was going to use on his wife. “No..” is all he could comment.

  
  


“You want to be the perfect student?”

  
  


“No, that’s for Jo!”

  
  


“Shooting her doesn’t cut it. You need to finish The Quartet.”

  
  


“You don’t deserve it.”

  
  


At this point, Hope has tears threatening to come out of her eyes. She knows deep down that she deserves this, because she’s Hope Mikaelson, she’s never deserved peace, she’s never deserved goodness. She knows that she feels something for Josie, though she’ll never understand what it is, but whatever it is, it’s not  **_real_ ** . It’s not real, like all the night terrors are or how real her father’s lack of love for her is, or how real her mother can barely cope after twenty years. She’ll never deserve Josie Parker.

Josie lifts her head up and notices that Hope has the syringe. She doesn’t scream out so that Alaric doesn’t hurt her again, but she’s pleading Hope silently with her eyes to not do this.

  
  


“That’s the thing, Alaric, I actually deserve this. I do deserve The Great Evil’s pain. Because I’m his daughter. My real name is Hope Mikaelson. I changed my name because I wanted to be liberated from him, I wanted to get away from him.” She hasn’t noticed, but she’s already crying and so is Josie.

  
  


“See, I always thought I was afraid of my father and everything he taught me. But, really, I was afraid of me. So, I betrayed him. I became a profiler because I wanted to bring people like my father to justice, he’s the reason why I’m in this job in the first place. I started hunting down people like him, and I love it.” She looks at Josie and takes a sharp breath. She stands up and all she can think about is how her father stood up the day of his arrest after he knelt down and told her ‘ **we’re the same** .’ “I love it because I never got to bring him to justice, give justice to his victims. But, I’m able to do now with others. And you would’ve been the next one, so here’s your chance, Alaric. Here’s your chance to kill me, his prodigal daughter. Escape the fate I would’ve given you if I had still lived.”

  
  


“Hope, no.”

  
  


Hope has tear marks all over her face and she can’t stop crying. “I’m willing to let go.”

  
  


“Hope, NO!”

Alaric wickedly smiles and grabs ahold of the syringe. Hope has stopped crying and holds on to his stare in her mind. If this is how she’s gonna go, at least she would remember the face of her killer for the rest of her immortal soul’s existence in hell. Alaric is about to press down when Stefan and MG walk in the room and shoot him.

Several gunshots fired, and Alaric falls down. A shout here, a handcuff there, and Hope drops to the ground, crying again, Josie moving towards her. Josie grabs both her arms.

  
  


“H-Hey. Hey. You okay?” No response. “You okay?!” More assertive, yet no response. 

  
  


Josie grabs Hope’s jaw. “You weren’t gonna let him do that, right?”

Hope can’t stop crying, but she musters enough strength, enough breath to respond. “No, I wasn’t.” She’s lying through her teeth. “Of course not, that would be crazy.”

Josie looks at her, pissed off written all over her face. She gets up and leaves Hope there on the floor. Stefan is watching everything from afar and notices how Hope looks to the roof, closes her eyes, and cries all her held-in breakdowns, because this was Hope Mikaelson’s breaking point.

* * *

Outside the Saltzman Tower, Nik is live reporting what happened to all of New York City.

  
  


“I’ve just received breaking news. A trusted source inside the NYPD has confirmed that the police are charging Alaric Saltzman with the three homicides that have terrorized this city.”

  
  


MG, Josie, and Stefan are in the back of a parked ambulance. MG looks at Stefan. “The Surgeon’s daughter? Stefan, you know I love you, but this is going way too far.”

Josie stops looking at the floor. “Stefan, who is she? Who is she to  _ you _ ?”

Stefan looks at both of them, thinking of the past. Neither of them has noticed that a completely emotionally and mentally broken Hope Mikaelson is standing nearby, listening to their conversation.

  
  


“I had left the EMT profession, moved on to be a cop so that I could stay in the first responder world, and the first area I was ever assigned was the Upper East Side, not far from here. One night, we get a call. Some kid, I’m thinking ‘it’s a prank’. I go over because I was told to, to work things out and settle everything. You know, apologize to the owners and all that. The doctor who lived there couldn’t figure out who made the call. Still, he let me in and offered me a cup of tea. That’s how The Surgeon, The Great Evil, tranquilized his victims. Tea laced with ketamine. As I’m standing in his hall, inside the famous Mikaelson Townhouse, a ten-year-old girl comes up to me. She tells me ‘you should take out your gun’. Confused, thinking I heard her wrong, I told her, ‘excuse me?’ and she replied ‘my father is going to kill you’. The Surgeon was unaware of the conversation I was having with his daughter at that moment, but I called for backup. Next thing you know, we arrested him.”

  
  


Josie was stunned, eyes wide open. “Hope called the cops on her own dad?”

  
  


“Yeah. She saved a lot of lives that night. Including mine. I know that she’s a little different, but trust me, she’s one of us. I think she realized then that she may not have been able to save everyone else that died, but she saved me. And ever since then, I’ve been in her life. Helping her mom along with my wife whenever we were both able to. My wife thought of her as a daughter.” He smiles fondly. “I understood what it was like to be in her position. I have a brother named Damon. He did some bad things, bad things that made the whole world believe that he had lost his humanity. But I believed in him. I was able to get a lawyer to solve the situation and basically got him a position in which he would work to take care of Klaus Mikaelson, both in the prison he was in and then now at Claremont Psychiatric. That was his sentence instead of going to prison. My brother has become a different person over the years and that has made all the difference.”

  
  


It was then that Hope goes up to them. “I called the cops on my dad, and that has been my darkest secret since I was little. My step-mother found out and she hates me for it, because I’m the reason her marriage with my father fell apart.” She starts to cry a little again. She doesn’t mention that part of the reason why she cries is that she believed for a long time that her family hated her as well for calling the cops. But none of the Mikaelsons hated her, except for Elijah. “When I left for Quantico, I changed my name to my mom’s: Marshall. I thought that by leaving for Quantico and changing my name, I would be liberated from him. I became quiet, little Hope Marshall, but that’s not who I am.” She briefly stops and looks at all three of them. “I’m not saying any of this so you can pity me. I’m only saying this because if you’re still okay with me being part of the team, I think I should be more honest.”

  
  


“Can I really be Hope Mikaelson again? Without being connected to him?”

  
  


Stefan goes up to her and looks at her. He talks to her with honesty pouring out in his voice. “Maybe not. But you can leave that Hope Mikaelson buried when you’re with us. Just like I told you twenty years ago, after they grabbed your dad and they took him to the cruiser, you’re a real hero, Hope. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Hope nods at Stefan and walks towards Josie. “Can I talk to you... Alone?” Josie looks up at her. She’s still upset, but she motions for MG and Stefan to leave them alone. Hope hops on the ambulance. She turns so that she faces Josie and she begins. “I’m so sorry, Josie. I’m sorry for the way that I profiled you. I hurt you, and I never wanted to do that. I think I also hurt you back at Saltzman’s office and I’m sorry about that, too. I don’t need a response in regards to your apology, you don’t have to accept it. Just know that I won’t do that again.”

She starts to get out of the ambulance and she once again turns to Josie. She grabs her hand and squeezes it. She walks down, past all the cop cars, past all the first responders, away from the scene. She grabs a candy, unwraps it, pops it in her mouth, and makes the wrapper into a small flower.

* * *

Hope Mikaelson is at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, sitting down in a chair that Mister Damon brought in for her, and looking at her father with so much anger it’s overwhelming her.

Klaus gave her the signature smile. He’s sitting down in his rocking chair. “What a thrill. You caught the killer, saved the girl. You’re quite the detective. Of course, you had my help.”

  
  


“There’s just one thing I can’t figure out. How did Alaric Saltzman know which pages to take from your journal?”

  
  


He keeps rocking in his chair and smirks while pointing his index finger at Hope. “That is an excellent question.”

Hope sits up straighter and crosses her legs. “Here’s another: did you orchestrate all of this just to get me back?”

Klaus laughs. She carries on. “Alaric, The Quartet, everything?”

  
  


“You’re letting your imagination get the better of you, Hope.” He laughs it off. “Even I couldn’t do that.”

  
  


Hope’s anger manifests further and she gets up to leave. She’s at the metal door when Klaus gets up and tries to walk to her but his tether pulled him back. “Wait, don’t go, please. You can’t leave.”

Hope turns around. “What the hell did you tell me?”

  
  


“I-I-I mean I’m sorry. I sh-I should’ve been more supportive of you joining the FBI. I was stubborn and we lost ten years. But watching you in action was exhilarating and I realized something. I can help you.”

  
  


Hope laughs. “That’s been your plan this entire time? I don’t need your help. I haven’t needed your help my entire life, what makes you think I need it now?”

  
  


“Well, you might. You know, there’s so much more I can teach you about murder. You know, maybe we can solve a few together. I don’t want to lose you again.”

  
  


Hope hasn’t stopped staring at him but her outer appearance changed for the worse when he said that. She turned around and finally opened the metal door. She turns her head one last time towards Klaus. “Goodbye, Dr. Mikaelson.”

She closes the door behind her and she walks with Mister Damon to leave Claremont Psychiatric Hospital for the last time. Klaus stares at Hope.

  
  


“My girl. My littlest one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a tough chapter to write, i was in tears by the end LMAO.
> 
> chapter 6 will be coming out in the next couple of days.
> 
> i also have a chapter two and chapter three coming out for my other fic and i'm thinking of starting another series of sorts but with one-shots of hosie dates.
> 
> at some point, i'd like to collaborate with someone on an idea i have about another fic. but i don't know just yet with who and if any of you would like to be part of it. if you want to though, reach out to me on twitter :)
> 
> follow me on twitter, my @ is @k3ytoev3rything


	6. Annihilator - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, sorry for taking so long to update this. went through another mood shift and it's hard to write with them. i hope you enjoy this chapter though and i await your comments :)
> 
> tw / pills, depictions of c-ptsd throughout chapter, brutal and descriptive quadruple homicide, mentions of extremities, poison, food, bruises, bondage, snakes

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Annihilator ─ Part 1**

Another night, another pavor nocturnus.

_Young Hope Mikaelson is once again reliving her father’s arrest. Once again, Klaus Mikaelson is kneeling in front of his daughter._

  
  


_“Hope, listen to me. I want you to remember something.”_

  
  


_The scene changed and Hope is walking through a door, the box is at the end of the room. She’s approaching carefully. She hears a lot of moans, distressing noises come from the box. So many gasps and whimpers. She calls for her father, but no response comes from Klaus. Does she open the box or does she leave everything intact?_

_She opens the box._

_And inside the box was a woman._

_Young Hope Mikaelson begins to scream, memories of her parents kissing, her stepmom and dad kissing, the woman’s body. She can’t stop screaming._

She wakes up.

She almost falls out of bed, but thanks to those restraints, she doesn’t. She’s panting through the mouth guard, her heartbeat racing. She makes the decision to take out her mouth guard by spitting it out and it lands on the floor. Hope then takes off her restraints and gets out of bed.

The radio turns on and **I Feel Good by James Brown** comes on. Hope decides that working out by doing some push-ups would be great before having a light breakfast and taking her medication but what she never anticipated was thinking of the apology that she gave Josie, never once looking back to see what the brunette would say or react.

Hope shakes her head and thinks that getting her mind off of Josie needs to happen at this very moment. The workout extends beyond push-ups and continues with lift-ups and some yoga. She finally finishes and takes all her medication. It gets exhausting to take four different medications just to function semi-normally, she thinks. As she’s taking her medication, however, she gets out a life inspiration card.

  
  


“I am thankful for my past and its many lessons.”

  
  


“I am thank-”

  
  


She begins to have a flashback episode.

_Young Hope Mikaelson is back on the day of her father’s arrest for the second time in a row. This time, she’s surrounded by all the cops in the same area where the box is, presumably the basement. The police radios are echoing and the sound of camera shutters fills the room. She walks cautiously once again towards the box. When she makes it, she notices that the box is open and nothing is inside._

_In comes Stefan Salvatore and kneels in front of Young Hope Mikaelson. He holds her hand._

  
  


_“Hey, you shouldn’t be down here.”_

  
  


_Hope looks towards the box before fixating herself on Stefan. “Where’s the girl?” She’s worried they haven’t found her and given her the help that she needs._

  
  


_“We don’t know. But we did find other things.” He pauses briefly. He whispers. “You were right. Your dad was going to kill me.”_

  
  


_Young Hope Mikaelson looks down at the floor. Stefan feels horrible about the situation at hand. Deep down, he knows what it’s like to be in Hope’s position. He looks at her forlornly and puts his left hand around the back of her neck briefly._

_“Come on.” He grabs her hand again and leads her out._

  
  


Hope snaps out of her episode at the sound of her phone ringing.

  
  


“Hello, mom.”

  
  


“Good morning sunshine, why don’t you join me for brunch? My driver, Chad, is out front waiting for you.”

  
  


Hope audibly sighs. “Mom, I’m a bit busy so..”

  
  


“Well, whenever you’re going to have lunch, you can join me. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure.” Hope thinks this is an opportunity to ask her why she was talking with Aurora the other day. That’s when her mind is once again invaded with thoughts of Josie.

* * *

Hope Mikaelson is at lunch with her mother and Nik. The restaurant that the three of them are at is so luxurious, it’s as if gold hangs on the walls.

Hayley talks, but neither is paying attention. Nik and Hope look at each other to give the impression that they are bewildered by everything Hayley says. At this moment is when everything ends.

A phone rings.

It was Nik’s phone.

  
  


“NIk, is everything okay? Am I keeping you here?” Hayley begins to look at Nik, concerned.

  
  


“No, it’s all good, Aunt Hayley. Things are just blowing up at work. We got a call on our scanner. Four dead bodies at Brooklyn Heights.”

  
  


Hope is immediately intrigued, no surprises there. “A quadruple homicide?”

  
  


“Crazy, right?” He begins to get his suit jacket. “Network might even break coverage for it. Fingers crossed!” He gets up and kisses both of them on the cheek. “Love you both so much. Bye!”

  
  


“Love you, too,” they shout back. Hayley chuckles a bit.

  
  


“Well, if your Uncle Elijah was here, he would tell you that there’s nothing quite like a murder to get you cheered up.”

  
  


They both laugh, but Hope quickly remembers the last time she saw him and the way that he acted. She looks down at her plate as Hayley pays attention to the bags under her eyes.

  
  


“You look exhausted.”

  
  


“Yeah, well, not properly sleeping definitely does that to you.”

  
  


Hayley Marshall begins to feel a pang of guilt. She wishes her daughter never had to go through this pain. This was the last thing Hope deserved. “Night terrors?”

Hope begins to fidget with the rings on her hands. One ring was a double M, for Mikaelson and Marshall. The other ring was just a simple silver band with a circle on it. “Yes.”

  
  


“Are you being safe?” Hope reaches for the cup of coffee on the table, but begins to shake. She closes her eyes. “The mouth guard, the restraints?”

  
  


Her mother pauses briefly, observing how she was not in control of her hand tremors and she looks away. “Your night terrors were always very intense. But I know what’s triggering them, it’s your father.”

At this, Hope shoots up and looks at her mother. “What? No, I-I promised you, and I haven’t seen him in years.”

  
  


“I know, baby. I meant that he’s been on the news a lot lately because of the copycat story and case you were on. The media just loves putting on things related to serial killers, gives them that true crime vibe.”

  
  


Hope felt a wave of relief come over her. “Right. Yeah.”

Hayley knew her daughter well enough to know that there was something bugging her, even maybe upsetting her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Hope takes a minute to think through on how she’s going to explain to her mother what’s going on. “These nightmares… I’ve been seeing new things about that night.. And..”

Hayley realized where she was going with her explanation. “Are you referring to the girl in the box? Hope, she never existed.”

Hope was getting a little frustrated at her mom’s words.

The night of Klaus Mikaelson’s arrest, when they looked in the box Hope pointed out would have the girl, she was never inside and not a single indication or DNA sample that could have provided proof that the girl in the box existed. Hayley was always concerned at how Hope could have imagined that this girl existed, while Aurora was always the one that told her that she needed to get over it and stop with the false stories.

Hope raised her hand and pointed angrily towards her mother. “Never found doesn’t mean that she never existed.”

  
  


“Hope! This guilt that hangs over your neck that stems from your father’s victims will eat you alive. It’s already consuming you!”

  
  


“But I can’t stop, I need to find out what happened to her, to me and-and..”

  
  


“Babe, I know what happened to you. You wanted to bond with your dad and we all let you. We didn’t know what he was up to in his office. You found all these pictures, these drawings - the evidence that the police needed in order to put him behind bars for good for a hundred lifetimes. But there was no girl. The police never found her.” It’s clear that Hayley, and by extension, the rest of the Mikaelson family, felt guilty of letting Hope bond with her father after the discovery of what he was doing behind the family’s back.

  
  


“What if there was? There has to be a reason why I keep seeing her.”

  
  


Hayley thinks about this. Hope has a point: there has to be a reason why she keeps thinking of the girl in the box, why she keeps seeing her in her dreams. But she also understands that the police didn’t find any evidence whatsoever pertaining to the girl in the box. Hayley wonders if her daughter’s PTSD created a hallucination of that night over the years, but she doesn’t want to point out that it could be a hallucination.

  
  


“Maybe. We’ll find a way to figure things out.”

  
  


Hope smiles at her and appreciates mentally the efforts her mom does for her. She knows that her mom might not believe her, but she also understands that this is much better than any attempt Aurora would have made for her if she was still in her life.

  
  


“I appreciate that. At least you’re not telling me ‘She’s not real! End of story!’ in which I would have to tell you that doesn’t mean the case is solved.”

  
  


Hayley looks at her with a puzzling gaze. “Who would tell you that?”

  
  


“Aur-”

  
  


Just then her phone begins to buzz. She grabs her phone and looks at the text.

  
  


“Let me guess. Is it Detective Stefan Salvatore of the NYPD asking you to be his consultant on the Brooklyn Heights case?”

  
  


Hope looks up from her phone towards her mother and leaves the restaurant as quickly as her feet can carry her.

* * *

On the other side of the street from the murder site in Brooklyn Heights, Detective Stefan Salvatore is speaking with an officer when he sees Former Special Agent Hope Mikaelson arrive on the scene. He smiles at her, grateful to see her.

  
  


“City girl.” He turns to the person he was speaking to. “Alright, we’ll talk more in-depth later on. See you around.”

  
  


Hope smiles and rolls her eyes at Stefan’s comment. They both hug and walk together. “You know, Stefan, it hurts a lot that you don’t call me immediately when you land a quadruple homicide.”

They cross the street, where officers lift the yellow tape from the front of the townhouse and they stop briefly. Stefan extends his arm and puts his hand on Hope’s shoulder. “Don’t be. I had gone ahead and cleared you with the brass. I needed to make sure you had a break after the copycat killer. That’s why I need to ask you, Hope, are you okay with this? Are you up for this case?”

Hope rolls her eyes once again and removes some hair that landed on her face from the New York air. “Me? Never. I’m great. I’m completely and utterly cool with this case. I feel at 100%” Hope points her index finger and gives him a smirk. “Which is what you should expect from me always.”

  
  


“See, now I know you’re lying to me. You should’ve said 90 or another lower number, not 100.”

  
  


Hope scoffs lightly. “I’m really glad you’re here, I could really use that big brain of yours in this case. It’s honestly one of the most fucked up cases I’ve seen in a while.”

Hope raises her arms up to her chest, the corners of her mouth quirking up, and crosses her arms. “Well, that’s my specialty.”

Stefan gave her a half-smile and motioned for her to come into the townhouse.

Hope Mikaelson, however, wasn’t the only Mikaelson at the scene of this horrific crime, details to follow. Nik Mikaelson was reporting live, giving as many facets of the situation as he possibly could, but failing.

  
  


“Thank you, Burt. We’re coming to you from Brooklyn Heights. We haven’t gotten official confirmation on this just yet, but sources tell us that the four victims in this townhouse are all members of the same family.”

  
  


As Stefan and Hope walk up the stairs into the townhouse, MG and Josie are waiting patiently for Stefan to arrive. MG sees Hope walk up the stairs, his forehead furrowing, and he angrily comments about Hope.

  
  


“Oh, hell no.”

  
  


Luckily for MG, Hope pays him no mind and takes it as a joke. “Oh, hell yes.” She’s literally beaming. She looks at Josie, who is already blushing. “Josie.”

Josie nods. Hope then looks at MG. “Matthew.”

  
  


“It’s MG.” MG crosses his arms and continues to look angrily at Hope while she diverges her eyesight elsewhere.

  
  


“Guess Stefan is getting the whole team back together.”

  
  


Josie, with enough sarcasm and annoyance in her voice, pupils dilated to the max, gave Stefan a grin with eyes wide open. “Is he now?”

Truth be told, Josie was glad that Hope gave her an apology, even though not all of it was entirely necessary. But now, she was annoyed that Hope left without her being able to tell her that she accepted her apology and definitely wanted to start over. But she feels that she wants more than what Hope would be willing to give her. If only she knew.

Stefan put his hands up in surrender. “It’s nothing official just yet.” He looks directly at Hope, but Hope doesn’t even notice. She’s entirely focused on the scene in front of her. “Hope’s just here as a consultant for the case, she can’t touch any evidence or talk to any of the witnesses until she’s cleared.” He visibly gulps and clears his throat. “Got it?”

Hope heard every word he said and understood that it was all directed towards her more than at Josie or MG. “Got it,” she throws his way. “And good morning.” She walks away and heads inward towards the dining room.

* * *

Hope Mikaelson stops when she reaches the dinner table. In front of her, the forensics team is analyzing the samples they have collected from the chairs and other extremities in the dining room. Dr. Penelope Park is also in the room, controlling the crime scene and telling the forensics team what they should be doing.

In the dinner table sits the family, their plates of food unfinished, half-eaten. The man at the head of the table has his head facing upward, while the other members at the table have their heads facing downward. The wealth in the family is obvious through their designer clothing and eating utensils.

Hope begins to get herself into the scenario.

  
  


“Now… what were you thinking?”

  
  


As Hope continues to look, right hand on her face holding her chin, Josie, MG, and Stefan are farther behind, still close to the stairs.

MG was the first to interject. “Did she say team?”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “She’s just-” Josie interrupts him. “Consulting, I know. But the last time she did this, she literally chopped Thierry Vanchure’s hand off with an axe! And the doctors called us and told us she did it with surgical precision. Does that not scare you?”

  
  


“Yes, and she saved his life. If she wouldn’t have acted like that, MG, Thierry, and even she would be dead right now. Now, wouldn’t that be worse?”

  
  


Josie looks away from Stefan’s face, liptight expression as clear as day. She looks towards Hope and looks at her from head to toe. She was definitely still mad at Hope, but she couldn’t help looking at her because Hope looked sensational in her suit, as always, Josie thinks to herself. She starts to focus on her rea-

  
  


“Hey, eyes over here.” Josie snaps out of it and looks at Stefan. He continues, his voice above a whisper. “Mikaelson’s the best profiler around. There’s no one else that could get into the mind of a serial killer as she can.”

  
  


MG crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, a chip off the old block, isn’t she?”

Stefan was about to retort when Hope turns around. “What do we know about them?”

The team walks towards Mikaelson. She walks on the left side of the table, MG on the right. He sighs. “The Petrovas was a shipping family. What they shipped, we don’t know just yet. Aleksandar was the father. He founded the company along with his wife, Sofija, back in Bulgaria. The children, Simona and Stanislav, grew up in this townhouse and New York, of course, and were being trained in the family business. Aleksandar was going to retire soon and needed to make sure that both of them knew what to do.”

As MG spoke, Hope was looking at each of them. All of them were tied up. Aleksandar had gray hair, a man that definitely was in his late 60s. He exhibited the most bruises and his mouth was sewn shut. What could that mean? Was the killer trying to signify that Aleksandar had a lot of secrets? Formally dressed for a family dinner. What was the occasion indeed for the attire? Sofija was looking downward and presented the least amount of bruising, an indication that she was a minor character in the murder and that the murderer was specifically targeting Aleksandar. She was wearing a black dress, not at all revealing, in her age range. She was definitely in her mid-60s. Is it possible the murderer killed Sofija, Simona, and Stanislav first in order to cause Aleksandar enough pain?

Simona and Stanislav were in their mid-30s, Simona wearing a green suit jacket and polka-dotted semi-formal blouse, also looking downward. Stanislav was wearing a grey formal sweater, his head was not looking fully downward. What was the significance of having their head down?

As MG stopped talking, Josie stepped up to the plate. “The neighbors didn’t hear anything. There were no signs of forced entry. The staff made the meal and left at 8:00. When they returned this morning, they came upon this and called the police.”

Hope was fidgeting with her left hand, walking closer and closer to Aleksandar with an extremely worried face. She points at him and finally lets her thoughts be spoken out loud. “Why was Aleksandar the only one with his mouth sewn shut? What was the killer trying to say? Or… What was the killer trying to stop Aleksandar from saying?” As she talks out that last sentence, she gets way too close to Aleksandar and almost touches him whenー

  
  


“Stop, you’re too close!” Penelope swats at her arm, grabs it, and pulls it away. Hope looks at Penelope, who is now extremely flustered.

  
  


“Oh! Special Agent Marshall! It’s me, Penelope.” She smiles, but quickly realizes that Hope can’t see it because she’s wearing a surgical mask on. She chuckles and fumbles trying to take the mask off. Her glasses almost fall but she grabs them and puts them back on. She chuckles again. “You’re too close.”

  
  


“I’m sorry, Dr. Park. Or is it Ms. Park?” Hope holds her hands up as if surrendering and from the other side, a jealous Josie is watching their second interaction ever, darts coming out of her eyes that she pretends to hit Penelope with. Why was she so jealous? And why jealous of the way Penelope talks to Hope? Why Hope specifically?

  
  


“Well, technically, it’s Dr. Park, but just call me Penelope, please.” She giggles. She lets out an exhale and whispers in Hope’s ear. “It’s so good to see you.” Hope doesn’t respond to her and looks at Josie from the corner of her eyes.

  
  


Josie stopped imagining darts and is now seeing daggers hitting Penelope in the back. Hope is fully aware that she looks very angry, which causes her thoughts to shift towards Josie once again for the millionth time during this eventful day. She tries to snap out of it and brings her attention back to the Petrovas.

  
  


“I take it they were poisoned?”

  
  


Penelope answers her question, quite awkwardly. “I take it you are right!” She coughs and begins to walk around the dinner table. Hope stays firmly in place, looking straight at the dinner table to avoid all eye contact with Josie. “So, there’s no evidence of external trauma. Uh, the cyanotic discoloration of the lips suggests that they ingested poison, but I won’t know for sure or have any specifics as to which poison it is until I do the tox screen.” Hope and Penelope are now walking downward, each on one side of the table.

Stefan is observing Hope meticulously. “What are you seeing, Marshall?”

Hope begins to insert herself into the crime. She imagines the Petrovas sitting down at the dinner table before the food is served, conversing with one another. They let in a figure, a known person into the family, whom she pictures as herself. Aleksandar is the one that leads her into the kitchen, where the staff was working on the meals each person wanted. When Aleksandar slipped away, back into the dining room, she grabbed out a bottle of the poison. She waits until the staff leave and puts a few drops in each of the portions, except for her own, which she studies to make sure she can describe it to the staff in case she decides to stay for dinner, and heads into the dining room herself.

  
  


“This wasn’t a family dinner. It was an obligation.”

  
  


Stefan looks at her questioningly and moves closer to her. “How do you know?”

  
  


“Four separate meals, four separate cuisines. They even have their own condiments and serving dishes. This family didn’t share anything. Someone demanded they attend. I’m betting on Aleksandar, the father. Notice his clothing. He’s wearing a full suit. If it was a regular family dinner, he wouldn’t be dressed so formally, same with the rest of the family. Notice Stanislav’s sweater ー its cashmere. Sofija is wearing a very formal black dress, while Simona is wearing a green suit jacket and is the one that’s the least formal amongst the four.”

  
  


“She does know about bad dads,” Josie comments and Penelope looks at her, confused as to why she even said that. Josie knows that Penelope is looking at her and motions angrily for her to focus on Hope. Penelope rolls her eyes.

  
  


Hope begins to ignore both Penelope and Josie. “And since Josie said there was no forced entry, we can assume that the Petrovas knew who the killer was and let them in.”

Hope walks towards Aleksandar again. She points towards his skin. “What is this discoloration?”

Penelope walks to where Hope is. “Vitiligo.”

Hope looks at Penelope, confusion obvious. Penelope sometimes forgets that not everyone is in the medical/coroner profession. “So, the disease causes the skin to lose pigment. There’s also fresh bruising on either side of the face. He’s also been crying.” Penelope was focused and looking intently at Aleksandar’s face, pointing directly with her gloved hands.

Penelope confirms Aleksandar was definitely the one that had the most bruising compared to the rest of the family, who had none, her first thought of the entire crime scene. Hope gets lost in thought, her tongue clicking.

  
  


“Crying… Bruising…”

  
  


She turns, her front facing Aleksandar’s back, putting her hands on each side of his head. “The killer had held his head so that he couldn’t look away.” Once again, everything was lining up, confirming all of her theories. For the second time, she not only immerses herself in the crime scene but also lets her thoughts out.

Hope Mikaelson pictures herself as the killer, holding Aleksandar’s head. Aleksandar is terrified, tears streaming down his face. The entire family looks in shock as they all get tied up, each of them dying one by one, Aleksandar watching his entire family die like hunted ducks.

She takes in a deep breath without moving her hands from where they were, as shock registers in her mind. “Aleksandar was forced to watch. That’s why the entire family was tied up. This wasn’t only murder. This was torture. Particularly targeting Aleksandar. He had the front row seat at his family’s execution.” She looks upward, having been focused on Aleksandar, and focuses on Josie’s face, which calmed her down.

Josie lets out a sigh upon locking eyes with Hope. “So, the killer must have poisoned Aleksandar after all the others died.”

Penelope was facing Aleksandar as well, specifically looking in the area between his ribs, above the periumbilical region.“There’s also a postmortem incision in his epigastric area.”

Hope looks at her, askance. “Why would they do that?”

  
  


“Give me a second, I’ll take a look.” And with that, Penelope began to search, while Hope continued on profiling, and Josie upgraded to bullets.

  
  


“So, we’re dealing with a highly organized killer, enacting a methodical plan targeting Aleksandar. He is definitely the target of our killer.”

  
  


Just then, her phone began to buzz. Hope wondered who could possibly be trying to reach her. Everyone she knew understood that she was working and wouldn’t call her in the middle of an investigation. She grabs her phone from her suit jacket’s interior pocket and looks at the screen. Unknown. Will she pick it up? Will she ignore the call? Decisions, decisions for the heroine of our story, Hope Mikaelson.

She picks up and walks away from the team.

  
  


“Excuse me.”

  
  


“Hello?”

  
  


“Hope, my littlest one! It’s me, your father. Your legendary father, to be exact.” Klaus is sitting down in his chair, with a weird-looking speakerphone in front of him.

  
  


Hope is completely dumbfounded. “What? How the hell do you have a phone?”

  
  


“Oh, I don’t, I have ‘phone time’, a critical distinction, Hope.” He looks towards Mister Damon, who is sitting in front of him with his eyes closed, in a corner in between his bookshelf and the tv. Mister Damon opens his eyes then, only to be flipped off by Klaus Mikaelson with his signature smile plastered on his face. Mister Damon puts on his own signature smile and flips him off right back, closing his eyes once again. “My calls had been exclusively reserved for my medical consultations, but I was able to pull a few strings to help the NYPD and their newest profiler,” Klaus speaks that last part with more enthusiasm than usual, which was his way to show he was genuinely proud of his daughter, but Hope rightfully doesn’t believe him and sees through his bullshit.

  
  


Klaus continues. “So, I heard about this quadruple homicide.” Hope starts to get extremely anxious, her hand tremors coming back with full force. Behind her, Penelope was cutting the stitching done on Aleksandar’s mouth. Klaus whistles. “That’s quite a story.”

  
  


“How do you even know I’m here?”

  
  


Stefan looks at Hope, a look of worry and skepticism shining brightly from ear to ear. “Oh, my. What, you’re actually on the scene? Oh, that’s so great!” Klaus is literally standing up from his chair, heading over to Mister Damon, which wasn’t a very far walk at all, and pats him on the leg.

  
  


He whispers. “Did you hear that? My girl is at the scene of the crime!”

  
  


“Klaus, you insufferable piece of shit, go back to the phone call. You don’t have all day.”

  
  


Klaus scoffs. He sits back down in his chair. “Go-go stand behind your cousin. Go on, I-I’ll bet I’ll be able to spot you!”

Hope closes her eyes shut so hard that it begins to hurt from the inside outward. She clutches her hand into a fist. “No.” Very firm, very assertive.

  
  


“No. No. No, you’re busy. Of course, I get it.” Klaus crosses his hands, his thumbs dancing with one another.

  
  


Back at the crime scene, Penelope finishes with the incisions and puts away her plier. Hope unclenches her hand and opens her eyes wide in anger.

  
  


“So, tell me about the bodies.”

  
  


Aleksandar’s mouth was suddenly wide open and his throat was… Moving?!

  
  


“Every killer leaves their own unique signature. Now, I want to hear all the details. I want to really be able to see it in my head.”

  
  


“I don’t need your help.” Stefan still remains to stare intensely at Hope, still has on his worried and skeptic face.

  
  


“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, my littlest one, I have so much to offer.” Klaus sits up straighter. Aleksandar’s throat keeps moving as if he was regurgitating postmortem.

  
  


“Now, we’re both obsessed with murder. Like father, like daughter.”

  
  


Hope hangs up the phone angrily. Aleksandar’s throat is moving more rapidly now, something is coming out of it, but what exactly is it? Hope turns around, faces the floor, and sighs. She looks up at Stefan and gestures with his head.

She meets Stefan face to face. “Wrong number.” Stefan smiles, but he knows that she’s lying.

Penelope turns back around to face Aleksandar and flashes his face with light. She stays frozen in place as she sees a head come out of his mouth. She tries to utter the word, but her fear takes over and her body begins to shake.

She finally gets the courage to speak, after closing her eyes shut and rapidly opening them up again.

She yells.

  
  


“SNAKES!”

  
  


In point of fact, it wasn’t just one protruding out of Aleksandar’s insides. It wasn’t two, either. It was THREE of them, and they were beginning to quickly crawl right out of Aleksandar, onto the floor, towards Penelope. At that moment, the entire team looks towards Penelope, Hope walking closer to her, slowly but surely.

MG takes out his gun. “What the hell? Where did they come from?”

  
  


“They were inside the victim,” Penelope lets out the sentence, shaking and her words coming out rather wobbly. 

  
  


Hope is dangerously close enough, even though there was still distance. These weren’t any ordinary snakes. They were indeed very poisonous. “The killer inserted them through the abdomen, that’s why there was that postmortem incision in the epigastric area.”

Stefan yells at the other police officers in the scene. “Hey! Seal the perimeter! And put a rush on ESU.”

Josie grabs a fireplace stick and motions with her hand at Penelope to move towards her. “Penelope, I’m gonna need you to move away from the body.” She manages to say the words as calmly as possible, even though she was getting nervous by the minute.

  
  


“I can’t. There’s one on me.” Indeed, one was slithering slowly around her leg, another continuing its path beyond Penelope from behind her right foot.

  
  


“It’s okay, don’t move.” Hope gets even closer now, trying to analyze how she’s going to get the snake off of Penelope.

  
  


Josie speaks up, worry coming out in syllables. “How do you know they’re not poisonous?”

  
  


“Oh, they’re very poisonous.” Hope continues her painfully slow descent towards Penelope, Josie is even more worried than she was before. Does Hope not realize how worried Josie is for her right now? Why does Hope keep putting herself in the most extreme life or death situations?

  
  


“The black mouth, coffin-shaped head? These are black mambas we’re dealing with.”

  
  


“Whoa, whoa. What are you doing?!” Stefan extends his arm and indignantly yells at Hope.

  
  


“It’s okay, Stefan. I had a few snakes as a kid.”

  
  


MG, still with his gun pointed, quietly says “Of course you did,” Hope completely oblivious to what he said. She grabs a long, cloth napkin from the dinner table, wraps it around her hand, and tiptoes towards Penelope, now being face to face with her.

  
  


“How are you doing, Penelope?” This earns Penelope a sword entering her side from Josie. Now Hope is calling her Penelope, what’s up with that?

  
  


Penelope mumbles a reply, to which Hope is beginning to be thankful she was close enough to hear because that’s how low and muffled it was. “I can’t move.”

Everyone is with their guns out, pointed towards the snakes. “That’s good, your brain is protecting you. There’s a part of the brain called the vermis. It’s one of the more primitive parts of the brain. When you’re afraid, it can freeze your motor functions.”

Penelope mumbles another reply. “That’s fascinating.”

Hope, with too much excitement, slightly yells and then controls her voice again. “Right?! I know. For a million years, our brains have been freezing us at the sight of snakes. Which makes sense.” She extends her right arm, napkin hanging, in front of Penelope’s right leg.

  
  


“‘Cause if we don’t move, then we’re not a threat.”

  
  


But before Hope could even begin to execute her plan, the snake moves its body backward, begins to hiss, and lunges at Penelope’s leg.

**End of Part 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i'll try to have a new chapter up soon, but i'm working on my other fic and two more projects :)))
> 
> follow me on twitter, it's @k3ytoev3rything


	7. Annihilator - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for making you all wait a whole week for this update, i started school on monday and i'm Stressed lmao, but i was able to finish everything and write out this chapter. it's slightly shorter than the others, but expect a longer update next sunday. i'm so sorry for this chapter LOL
> 
> tw / snakes throughout chapter, snake bites, fainting, poison, mentions of serial killers briefly, murder mention, suicide mention, depression mention, escalating violence between two characters

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Annihilator Part 2**

The snake began to lunge at Penelope’s leg. But before it could pierce her leg with its fangs, Hope began to move the cloth napkin and the snake noticed it. Because if you do move, you’re a threat, and that’s exactly what the snake thought. The snake changed its trajectory and flung itself towards the cloth napkin. At that moment, Hope grabbed it by the head and wrapped it around the napkin. Everyone followed afterward with a movement as well. Josie used the fireplace stick and flung the second snake backward.

  
  


“Secure those snakes. ESU is coming,” Stefan yelled across the whole townhouse.

  
  


Hope was able to walk and approach Penelope now, putting her hand on Penelope’s shoulder.

  
  


“You’re okay.”

  
  


“Thank you.”

  
  


It was then that Penelope fainted and Hope quickly grabbed her, holding the raven-haired woman in her arms.

  
  


“Ooh.” Hope was not expecting all that weight fall on her arms. Not because Penelope is heavy, but because she genuinely wasn’t thinking that she would faint.

  
  


Hope looks at MG. “Okay, you can stay for one more case.” She laughs softly and leans a bit into Penelope.

* * *

Klaus Mikaelson calls his daughter again, only to be sent straight to voicemail. As he expected. He knew that Hope wouldn’t pick up another call after their last, his last words to her ringing in his head over and over again.

  
  


“Now, we’re both obsessed with murder. Like father, like daughter.”

  
  


Was Klaus regretting what he said? No, Klaus Mikaelson regrets **_nothing_ **.

  
  


“Hello, Hope, it’s your dad.” He grabs a book from his shelf and begins to skim through it. “I heard more about the case.” He makes a face, as if Hope was there in the room looking at him. “Ooh, gruesome stuff. Anyways, if you want to bounce around some ideas, give me a call.”

  
  


Klaus kept moving around from side to side, while Damon looks at him.

  
  


“You know, if you actually get a call back, I owe you a cup of apple juice.”

  
  


Klaus turns around and takes a good, hard look at him. “And you know, if you didn’t have your incident, maybe your brother and Iー”

  
  


“Shut the fuck up, don’t finish that sentence.” Damon got up, not even wanting to think of Stefan and Klaus _together_ , and left the room. Klaus watched him leave, his signature smile all over his face.

  
  


Back at the precinct, Hope Mikaelson is looking at the board the team has prepared with all the pictures of the crime scene and the paperwork/identifications of the family. She exhales and begins to try and remove a paper from the board when Stefan walks in.

  
  


“Penelope?”

  
  


Stefan gives her a smug look. “Is fine. Don’t worry.” He closes the door behind him. “She’s back and working, I have her tox screen with me.” He lays the folder on the table where MG and Josie were sitting.

  
  


“The Petrovas were poisoned with metoprolol, a beta-blocker.”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson has not once looked behind her, mostly to not face Josie, but also because she can’t get her eyes off the pictures of the crime scene. Seeing the way that the food was prepared, the way they were arranged at the table, the way the Petrovas were tied up. Her only thought was that this was a very personal murder. A murder conducted because the murderer had a personal vendetta against Aleksandar. But why? What did Aleksandar do that was problematic in the murderer’s eyes? But she wanted to make sure that Stefan knew she was paying attention, so she diverted her attention to the team, briefly.

  
  


“Nasty stuff. Killer used it to shut down their hearts.”

  
  


MG interjects. “Well, they certainly had enemies.” He’s fidgeting with his pen and so is Josie. Stefan meanwhile looks at both of them and drinks his coffee. Hope is still looking at the board. What exactly is she looking for? What is that piece of the puzzle that will answer the problematic factor that caused Aleksandar’s brutal death, along with the rest of his family? “The family made their money in the shipping trade. You know how many shifty people they dealt with?”

Hope’s phone begins to ring and she picks it up. No one notices this. Josie piggybacks off of MG’s theory with facts. “They have been involved in hundreds of lawsuits over the years. Government fines. They were even investigated by Interpol.”

As Hope looks at her phone, she sees that it’s an unknown number. This definitely has to be her father. ANOTHER call from her father, does that man ever give up? She declines the call and puts away her phone, looks back at the board.

  
  


“Oh, family of snakes. Maybe that’s the message. A business associate after revenge.” MG kept talking but once again, nobody noticed Hope Mikaelson. She’s got her hand tightly clenched in a fist. So tight, her nails leave marks on the insides of her palm. But upon hearing “business associate” and “revenge”, she had to make her voice heard. 

She unclenches her fist, crosses her arms, and turns around to face MG. “No, this crime didn’t feel like business.” She then begins to look at Josie and Stefan while she talks, MG looks directly at her, a pissed-off expression from ear to ear. “It felt personal, like it was directed at Aleksandar.”

  
  


“Don’t all murders seem personal to you?”

  
  


“Shut the fuck up, MG. You’re such a dick.” Now Josie’s the one that’s pissed off. She understands why MG is mad and she isn’t one to say that someone’s feelings aren’t valid, but this was just being mean and cruel towards Hope and she wasn’t going to tolerate that. Stefan glares at him. 

  
  


“No. MG’s right. We’re-we’re not gonna get anywhere until we move through this, so let’s get on right to it, shall we?”

  
  


Hope waves her had at MG to try and get his attention, a sarcastic wave, followed by sarcastic statements filled with truth. As she told them the night they solved their first murder, she needs to be more open with them for them to trust her. “Hi, I used to go by Hope Marshall, but I was born and raised as Hope Mikaelson. My father is Dr. Niklaus “Klaus” Mikaelson and he’s the most notorious serial killer since Jack the Ripper and Dr. Death.” Stefan is looking down at his feet but then glares once again at MG. Josie gives him a smirk but focuses her attention on Hope. Perhaps Josie feels a sense of admiration towards what Hope is doing right now, because she knows that this for sure isn’t easy. Our dear heroine has come a long way, but does she still think that Mikaelson is her downfall?

  
  


“Killed 23 people, at least. All while raising me as this so-called perfect dad.” Hope looks straight at MG now, her piercing blue eyes never diverting elsewhere. MG gets intimidated by her stare but he also doesn’t look away, he does not want to face Stefan right now. “Yes, he’s a psychopath. But I’m not. I’m just me.” She lifts her hands. “What else can I tell you?”

  
  


MG feels bad. He genuinely feels bad that he made Hope feel like this. That she had to explain this background on herself. Josie was right, he was being a dick and he realizes it now. “Was it umーlike… Was it weird?” is all he could muster the courage to say.

  
  


“Having a serial killer for a father?” She crosses her arms and scoffs at him. “Yeah, it was super weird.”

  
  


An awkward silence fills the entire room. MG still has the same facial expression, but Josie has turned her attention to MG and gives him a grin, a grin that said “you deserved this big time”. She rubs her forehead. Hope starts to nod her head while her lips are pursed.

Hope decides to break the silence, but her voice was barely above a whisper at first. “Okay, good talk.” She proceeds to talk about her profile.

  
  


“Now, back to those snakes. In mythology, snakes represent fertility, guardianship, and vengeance.”

  
  


Josie is looking at her, paying attention to every word, every movement Hope makes with her hands. She snaps herself out of her thoughts, calling herself ridiculous for looking at Hope this way, when Hope would never like her. She is definitely wrong, but all she can think about is the fact that yearning is a bitch. So, to stop thinking about Hope, she responds to Hope. How does this work out?

  
  


“Imma take a wild guess and say it was vengeance.” She darts her eyes from side to side. “At Aleksandar.” She says that last part a bit sarcastically, as if it was redundant to say Aleksandar Petrova’s name.

  
  


“Yes. Right. Our killer was so angry, he destroyed an entire family. We may be dealing with a family annihilator.” The whole team, excluding Hope, looks at each other while she carries on with the profile. Stefan then looks right at Hope.

  
  


“What’s the MO?”

  
  


“Well, there are several classifications. The self-righteous blame their mother, the anomic fear financial ruin, the paranoid kill their family in order to protect them from a perceived threat, the disappointed just want love. They’re often male, and they struggle with depression. Afterward, they kill themselves.”

  
  


“But not this one.” Josie, without meaning to, speaks out loud. It was a question that was meant to stay internally, but it seems like Josie Parker gave away that she’s been paying way too much attention.

  
  


Stefan is a little too aware of Josie’s and Hope’s situation. Right now? He’s gonna save Josie from embarrassment. “Are we sure there aren’t any more family members?”

MG is the first to get up and walk out. Still ashamed of what happened earlier, he offers to check the DMV and Social Security offices. Just as he walks out, Hope’s phone begins to ring again. She is bewildered at the fact that her father is so persistent. She stares at her phone for a while this time, Stefan watching her and looking at her with fierceness.

  
  


“You gonna answer that?”

  
  


Hope hasn’t stopped staring at her phone. Unknown. Yes, definitely her father. She declines the call and just stares at the table. “No.”

* * *

At Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, Hope’s voicemail message is heard around Klaus’ cell.

  
  


“ _This is Marshall. Leave a message._ ” and then there’s the famous beep.

  
  


Marshall, huh? It seems like Hope _Mikaelson_ hasn’t bothered to change her voicemail message.

Klaus is sitting in his rocking chair, reading a book. He looks up, towards that big phone machine they let him use to make his phone calls. “I respect that you’re conflicted about picking up.” He lifts his book a little. “But as Oscar Wilde said, ‘The only way to fight temptation is to yield to it’. Oh, it’s dad, by the way. Give me a call.”

In his usual corner, by the first bookshelf, is Damon. His own signature smile is across his face as he hears Klaus Mikaelson call his daughter over and over again, leaving a voicemail every time he calls. It’s probably the twelfth voicemail, or the twenty-fifth, and with each voicemail, his smirk just gets bigger and bigger and his laugh louder and louder.

Klaus hears his mocking, but refuses to pay attention to him. He’s too busy thinking he’s just lost his daughter. Forever this time.

  
  


“Hope, Dad. Remember John Gilbert? Killed five of his family members in ‘90 and was never caught? I always wondered….”

  
  


It was reaching the end of the day and the end of Klaus’ phone privileges for the day. “Well, phone time is ending for today.” He tells his daughter in one final voicemail. “A total bust. Thanks for that.” He paces back and forth while Damon continues to mock and laugh at him. “I really would like to speak with you. You sounded tired on the phone. You know, maybe I can help with that.”

At that, Damon’s laughter roared. “I honestly can’t believe you think that your sweet daughter will pick up your calls ever. If she’s smart, and I know that she is, she’ll never come back here ever again. I wonder how that makes you feel, asshole.”

Once again, Klaus ignores all the comments. “I don’t know, help with anything.” He turns to the machine and he begins to **_scream_ **. “I JUST WANT TO HELP, DAMMIT.”

Damon snapped out of his thoughts, his laughter, his mockery. He gets up quickly and marches towards Klaus. He stands in front of him, inches away from his face. “If you don’t relax your tone right now, Mikaelson, I will not regret taking this phone away and having you never see it ever again. Now, finish your message, because as you told Hope on the phone, phone time is ending for today.”

Klaus’ breath is erratic and he knows that Damon can tell. He steps back and stares at the phone again. He manages a chuckle. “Well, hopefully, we can speak tomorrow. Goodbye, my girl. My littlest one.” That’s when Damon pressed the button and hung up for him.

* * *

Detective Stefan Salvatore and Former Special Agent Hope Mikaelson arrive to their location and get out of the car. Stefan had his sunglasses on and his usual turtleneck with a jacket on top. Hope, as usual, in her best suits and in her best brogues. She hears her phone chime and picks it up. She looks at her notifications. So many voicemails from “Unknown”.... Her father definitely doesn’t know when to give up, she’s come to this conclusion since the third phone call. She scrolls to see how many voicemails he’s left and upon realizing that the notifications are basically never-ending, she angrily shuts her phone and puts it back into the inner pocket of her suit jacket.

Stefan had walked ahead and managed to catch up with Josie.

  
  


“So, Aleksandar had another daughter?” He met face to face with MG.

  
  


“Yes, sir. Katerina Petrova. She changed her name to Katherine Pierce five years ago and fled to Bulgaria after she and the entire family had a falling out.”

  
  


Josie thought about this. “She could be our family annihilator.”

  
  


“Or the next victim.” Hope was behind Josie. They all keep walking towards this giant warehouse in front of them and all Hope can look at is Josie’s a―

  
  


“What is this place?” Josie looks towards MG.

  
  


“No idea, Jo, but the building’s deed is under Katherine’s name. There she is.”

  
  


Katherine Pierce was at her car, unloading things from the trunk. She looks up and sees that Stefan, MG, Josie, and Hope are all staring at her with smirks on their faces.

Stefan is the first one to smile. “Katherine?”

  
  


“NYPD. You got a minute to answer a few questions?” MG steps slightly closer.

  
  


Katherine presses a button on the trunk door and as the door goes down on its own, Hope notices that she wasn’t unloading anything, rather she was putting a box inside. A box with many holes around it.

  
  


“Uh, yeah. Sure, what can I do for you?” She looks around rather cautiously and nervously. Hope looks at her face and smiles, automatically figuring out everything.

  
  


Josie was the first to ask a question. “Have you spoken to your family recently?”

Katherine chuckles anxiously. “No. Not in like─five years. We’re-we’re not close.”

Hope is studying Katherine meticulously. She notices that this brunette diagonally from her is wearing black gloves. But these aren’t your regular polyester, cotton, or leather black gloves. These were special. These gloves were specifically anti-bite gloves, intended to protect you from various kinds of bites. Maybe even snake bites, perhaps?

  
  


“Why? What’s up?”

  
  


Katherine looks at Josie, but Josie immediately looks away. Then she looks at Stefan and Stefan doesn’t let his gaze drift at first. “Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this…” He looks at the floor.

But before he could finishー

  
  


“They were murdered.” Hope hates when Stefan sugar coats things or takes too long to get to the point, but truth be told, she wanted to be the one to tell the brunette because she wanted to be the one to see the reaction that Katherine would have when she was told her family is dead.

  
  


Katherine was shocked for a bit, which doesn’t go unnoticed, but she shakes it off. “Well, uh, like-like I said, I don’t, uh…” She stops briefly and thinks carefully what she’s going to say. “Wait, do you not know who did it?”

  
  


“Not yet. We were hoping that you could help us figure that out.” Josie gives her a tight lip smile and looks at her from head to toe. This also doesn’t go unnoticed and Hope begins to look at Josie. Is Josie checking Katherine, THE prime suspect of the crime, out? Hope can’t believe this. What is this feeling that she’s experiencing, jealousy? But why? Josie’s not hers and she’s sure as fuck that Josie wasn’t her answer. Josie would never want to be with her. Josie, in reality, wasn’t checking Katherine out, rather, she wanted to try and be like Hope, see if she could see what Hope sees, only coming to the conclusion that Hope can do what she does because she’s got the profiling in her **_blood_ **.

  
  


“I-I got no clue. Like I said, I haven’t seen them in years.” Upon giving her answer, she focuses directly on Stefan, but Stefan is looking right back, questioningly. Hope is also looking at Katherine. If you thought that Josie throwing darts at Penelope was bad, Hope went beyond that and was imagining a tank running over Katherine multiple times. Of course, she was the one driving the tank. But, Hope’s mind was split in two, and on the other side, she was analyzing every move, every word, and every facial expression Katherine made. “What happened?”

  
  


Stefan’s questioning gaze never faltered. “They were poisoned.”

  
  


“And snakes were left behind at the scene.” At this, Hope put her hands to her front and crossed them while Katherine lets out an exhale and looks away. “That mean anything to you?”

  
  


Katherine begins to pace a bit while staying in her position. “No.”

Luckily for Katherine, our heroine, the profiler Former Special Agent Hope Mikaelson, notices everything, for Hope stayed watching her. She lifts her hand and points at the brunette’s gloves. “Those are some pretty serious gloves you have there. Double Kevlar? Custom-made?”

Katherine, once again, began to pace, exhale, and shift nervously. “Sorry, uh, do you mind if I justー”

And she takes off sprinting into the warehouse.

Josie, MG, and Stefan take their guns out and Josie and MG rush after Katherine. Stefan had stayed behind at first and told Hope to not go inside. With their guns up and inside the warehouse, they noticed that this would be too big to cover all on their own without knowing what was really inside. All they can hear is animal noises, but what animals? They can be anything.

  
  


“Wait, wait, hold up.”

  
  


As the three of them are looking around the warehouse, they see that at the end is a room with a window. The inside has a green fluorescent light and something is shaking inside. To their left, rows and rows of wooden crates reach all the way to the top. And the _stench_.

MG begins to sniff the air. “What the hell is that sound? What the hell is that _smell_?”

More growls, chitters, and squawking noises are heard all over the warehouse. Stefan looks from side to side and thinks through what he wants him and the team to do next. Finally, he motions for MG and Josie to go ahead and so they do.

Both of them, still with their guns up, move forward and turn left to go deeper into the warehouse. Stefan follows closely behind but hears a noise behind him, causing him to turn around. Hope Mikaelson is standing there, looking around in fascination.

  
  


“Oh my God, she’s a black market animal dealer. I wonder what animals she has in here!” She walks quickly into the warehouse, causing Stefan to scoff. “Godammit Mikaelson, I told you to wait outside.”

  
  


Hope just puts her hands up in surrender and quietly laughs. More animal growlings. Stefan turns around, back to his original position, and walks towards the rest of the team. Hope stays firmly in position and looks around before drifting away from the others.

* * *

While Stefan, MG, and Josie are on one side of the warehouse, Hope is at another part and stumbles upon a cage with a jaguar. A very, very angry jaguar that is pacing back and forth. Upon seeing her though, he got angrier and lunges towards her, causing her to stumble back a bit. She regains her footing, but stays in place. Around her, there are many tanks. One tank, in particular, has an eel. She looks carefully around though, she doesn’t want to bump into a dangerous animal’s box or cage and have an accident.

Speaking of accidents.

Hope hears a thump in the back and out pops Katherine.

  
  


“Katherine, we just want to talk.”

  
  


Unbeknownst to Hope, Katherine is very mischievous and sneaky. Already, the woman was thinking of a way to escape Hope. She knew that Hope didn’t know the layout of the warehouse and that in the entire place, she would be the only one that did. Her powerful and potent brown eyes did not leave Hope’s perforating blue eyes.

But Katherine Pierce had to do what Katherine Pierce always does in order to survive.

She began to run away, knowing that Hope would follow suit. Once Hope was behind her, she grabs something from a plastic container. But what was it?

A snake.

The snake flew and landed right on Hope. The auburn-haired woman screamed and landed backward, breaking a few wooden boxes. Thankfully, nothing was in it that could hurt our dear Hope Mikaelson. This caused Katherine to leave through a random door, but Josie was right on her tail, gun clicked, and everything. That is, until she saw Hope trying to get up from the floor.

  
  


“Hope?” With Hope always getting into some dangerous situation, Josie had no choice but to always be worried when they were out in the field and this was one of those moments.

  
  


“That way.” Hope pointed towards the direction Katherine ran to and is finally getting up. Josie is fixated on her arm. What was up with Hope’s arm, you ask? Well, the snake was fang-deep into her wrist.

  
  


“Hope, the snake. It’s on your arm!” Josie’s gun was still up, but she faltered a bit once her voiced shrieked and the gun was now pointing towards the floor.

  
  


Hope begins to look at Josie. Her face is filled with worry, just like her words. Hope can’t help but wonder if Josie really does care about her, but immediately came to the conclusion that this had to be impossible.

She begins to gay panic again though.

“Ah!” She grunts and throws the snake across the room they were in and laughs it off. Of course, she has to try and play it cool.

  
  


“It’s fine.”

  
  


“Fine. Just a small one. Probably not e─”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson collapses to the floor.

Josie rushes towards Hope, who is entering into shock and turning purple. She puts away her gun and takes out her phone to call 911.

  
  


“This is Detective Parker with the NYPD, I got a 10-13 and need an ambulance immediately.”

  
  


Josie checks for Hope’s pulse. She’s alive, but barely, and she keeps convulsing. Is this the end of the line for our heroine?

  
  


“Hope? Hope! I need you to look at me. You’re gonna be fine, okay? Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you. I need you to breathe. Please. Breathe. Breathe.”

  
  


Hope yells. The pain coursing through her body is excruciating and she tilts her head back. Josie grabs her neck and holds it into place.

  
  


“No. No. No. Hope.”

  
  


With every no that Josie says, Hope can barely hear it, can barely focus. She can’t stay awake any longer. When she begins to close her eyes, Josie gets her right hand and tries to force open her eyes.

  
  


“No. No. Hope. You need to stay. Stay here. Fight, Hope Mikaelson. Fucking fight, because I can tell that from your whole life, you don’t know how to die quietly. So you’re gonna win this fight because you don’t know how to lose.”

  
  


But even then, Josie can’t realize this is the end for Hope. This profiler has reached her end. She finally closed her eyes to the sound of the sirens, Josie grabbing her and holding her tight, tears threatening to come pouring down her face.

Hope Mikaelson miraculously is cheating Death’s game, and she’s becoming an expert at it.

**End of Part 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you can wait another week to find out what happens!
> 
> follow me on twitter, it's @k3ytoev3rything


	8. Annihilator - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! new chapter is here before sunday! after organizing my school work into a schedule and stuff on notion, i was able to do everything ahead of time and find time to write :) this chapter is definitely longer than the last, as promised last week. please don't kill me... but i hope you all like this chapter!!
> 
> tw / mentions of c-ptsd symptoms throughout, night terrors/nightmares, hospitals, medical drugs/sedatives, mention of substance abuse, panic attacks, mention of suicide, vivid description of dead body, murder, alcohol, poison, brief mention of sex, drugging someone, and crappy dad attitude

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Annihilator Part 3**

_Young Hope Mikaelson is calling for her dad. She walks into the basement of her house again slowly. Whimpers, groans, coming from a black box._

  
  


_“Dad, what’s in here?”_

  
  


_Putting her mug down on the floor, she reaches for the lock to open this mysterious box that no one tells here what’s inside. When she opens it, she finds_

_A woman._

_Young Hope Mikaelson screams, flashes of this bruised and bloody woman flooding her mind._

_Klaus Mikaelson comes from behind and grabs her, putting a cloth around her mouth and nose. He shushes her._

  
  


_“It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”_

  
  


Hope Mikaelson wakes up screaming. She’s grunting and panting, taking her a moment to recover from another pavor nocturnus. She looks around and notices she’s in the hospital, a monitor beeping faintly in the background.

  
  


“Hello? Where is…”

  
  


“Oh my god.” It was a nurse. “Get Dr. Donovan, she’s awake.”

  
  


“W-What’s in this? W-What drug did you give me?” Hope is freaking the fuck out. Well, freaking the fuck out is the understatement of the century. She’s having a panic attack, she can’t handle not knowing what was in her body, coursing through her veins in this very moment and she can’t handle the fact that she wasn’t in control, that she was **_stuck_ **.

  
  


“I need to be able to wake up! I need to be able to wake up.” She attempts to remove all the IV tubes but the nurse quickly comes up to her. “It’s all under control.”

  
  


“WHAT DID YOU GIVE ME?!”

* * *

Back at the precinct, Stefan is in his office, talking with some woman. A woman who seems rather… angry. But she was familiar to Stefan, just didn’t know or understand why.

  
  


“Katherine Pierce asked me to relay a message.”

  
  


“Okay, and why you? It is my understanding that Ms. Pierce was estranged from our victims.”

  
  


“Well, I’ve been representing the Petrova family for some time now and Katherine knows, in spite of their schism, that I’ll do my best to protect her as well.”

  
  


Stefan looks at this woman straight down. “Let me guess, she didn’t do it?”

  
  


“That said, she would be willing to come in and discuss your homicide investigation…”

  
  


“Great!”

  
  


“...if you promise and can guarantee she won’t be charged with anything in connection with her import-export business.”

  
  


Oh, a lawyer. It’s always the lawyers.

Stefan scoffs and laughs in her face. “That’s a non-starter. I have a woman in the ER because of her and her business.” He stands up and stares at her again. “Look, I got a warrant out for Katherine’s arrest. IF you really cared about YOUR client―”

The woman stands up as well and points at Stefan. “Her father was my client and my friend.”

Stefan didn’t know what to say to that. Except for—

  
  


“I’m sorry.”

  
  


The woman looks down, grabs a card out of his pocket, and hands it to Stefan. “Yeah. Let me know if I can help.”

Stefan drops the card on the floor as soon as he sees the name. When he tries to go after her, he realizes she’s gone.

It’s been **_so long_ **.

* * *

At the hospital, Hope Mikaelson is in her clothes again ー that great suit and brogues, her essence. Outside the room talking to the doctor is Nik Mikaelson. It was a very brief conversation because he quickly comes in to check on his cousin.

  
  


“Knock, knock!”

  
  


“They can’t force me to stay.” Hope is fixing the buttons of her cuffs, a little shaky still.

  
  


“Aw, come on, is that how you’re going to talk to your ‘in case of emergency’ person?”

  
  


Nik closes the door of the room and walks over to Hope’s hospital bed to sit next to her. He looks at her questioningly and puts the bag that was in his hand next to him.

  
  


“Since when did you get back into having snakes around in your life?”

  
  


Hope rolls her eyes. “I don’t have any snakes in my life. Can you just tell them that I’ll sign the discharge AMA?”

  
  


“They don’t even know how you could be awake right now. You were given some serious sedatives.”

  
  


Hope turns to look at him. “What was it, fentanyl? I take that in my morning coffee.”

  
  


“That’s not something to brag about….”

  
  


“Look, I don’t take sedatives anymore, okay? If I can’t wake up… It’s like I’m trapped in there…”

  
  


She just stares at the hospital floor, thinking of the night terror she had last night. That was a real memory, she _knows_ it. It really was her dad holding her, putting that cloth on her nose and mouth so she would inhale whatever was on it. She doesn’t know why but the hospital floor just feels safe right now, even though she’s next to one of the safest people. But we know that the real reason is because Hope Mikaelson is **_scared_ ** of her cousin’s reaction.

  
  


“With your dad?”

  
  


“Yeah.”

  
  


Just then, a phone rings.

It was Hope’s phone, the one that’s in the bag next to Nik. He reaches for the bag, opens it, and grabs her phone.

  
  


“Someone’s getting a call.”

  
  


He opens up the plastic bag and grabs her phone. When he looks at the screen, he notices that there are seventeen voicemails. Talk about never, ever giving up, right?

What Nik doesn’t notice is that his cousin is looking at everything he’s doing. Once Hope saw that the voicemails popped up, she yanked the phone out of his hands.

  
  


“Seventeen missed calls? Who the hell would…”

  
  


A smile. “It’s, uh, nobody.”

Nik scoffs, lips pursed. He turns his head to look at her, but Hope is looking anywhere but at Nik. “How did your nightmares get so intense? Was it coming home? The copycat case? Too much Dad on the brain?”

She sighs and faces him. “Something like that.”

They stayed staring at each other for a while until Nik couldn’t stand it anymore. It was too painful. He purses his lips again and grabs her right wrist. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

As Hope is about to tell him, Nik immediately grabs her phone and presses play on one of the voicemails, walking towards the window in the room. She gets up to go after him, to try and stop him, but it was clearly too late.

  
  


“Hello, Hope, it's Dad.”

  
  


Suffice to say, Nik is in complete shock to hear his uncle’s voice on the phone. Truth be told, it wasn’t a shock because the man was a serial killer, but because he didn’t expect him to sound…. Like a concerned dad.

  
  


“Holy….”

  
  


Hope closes her eyes. This was too much for her. His voice. Nik’s shock.

  
  


“Dad again, it’s almost 4:30… Hey, my littlest one, it’s your father. Sun’s beginning to set.”

  
  


Hope was able to open her eyes again and looks at Nik, who hasn’t been able to stop looking at the phone’s screen wide-eyed.

When Nik finally looks up, his eyes have a mix of fear and anger.

  
  


“Does Aunt Hayley know about this? Of course not. If she knew, you wouldn’t be in a hospital, you’d be in a morgue. You PROMISED her and you not only broke that promise but you broke her TRUST.”

  
  


Hope looks at him, her eyes filled with sadness and tears trying to burst through. In her mind, all she could think about was that Nik was right and that she was a horrible daughter. She didn’t deserve a mother like hers.

  
  


“She can never know,” her voice barely above a whisper.

  
  


“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Nik was getting more and more upset as the seconds passed by. 

  
  


Hope understands his frustration, but she can’t help but get mad at him, too. He doesn’t get her, her life. What she has to go through.

  
  


“Nik, for ONCE in your LIFE, LISTEN TO ME. These nightmares? They’re new. It’s like my subconscious is trying to show me something.”

  
  


“Like what?”

  
  


“Lost memories. Do you get what that’s like? To feel like there are memories locked away because they’re THAT painful? That the only way you can get closer to figuring out the memories is exposing yourself to the reason why they’re locked away in the first place? Wanna know what the reason is? Trauma.” She pauses for a minute. “There’s a missing time between when I found the girl in the box and when I called the cops.”

  
  


“How much time?”

  
  


“I don’t know, I haven’t figured out all the specifics just yet.” She pauses again, feeling out of breath, as if it hurts to breathe and every breath burns her lungs.

  
  


She looks at Nik in the eyes. “My father is the only one who can help me understand it and remember it.”

The sun is shining bright against the both of them. Hope’s skin looks paler but shines and looks glamorous, while Nik’s brown skin is glowing like magic and is so entrancing. Hope keeps her eyes on him, but Nik is looking at the window. At the mention of Klaus, he scoffs. “You really think your serial killer father, my serial killer uncle, is going to help you remember?”

He pauses and Hope visibly and audibly gulps. “After everything he’s done?”

  
  


“Don’t do this. Don’t go back to him. Don’t let him in your mind.”

  
  


She closes her eyes the moment he grabs her arms. When she opens them again, it’s piercing blue eyes reflected against perfect, spellbinding chocolate brown eyes. “What else can I do? He was there, he knows the truth.” Putting her hand on his shoulder and leaning in to whisper in his ear, she tells him “I have to go,” and leaves the hospital to go to another hospital.

* * *

If you were wondering “what hospital is Hope going to?” and came to the conclusion that it was Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, you are absolutely correct. But what you didn’t guess is that she was in a new suit and a new pair of formal ankle boots.

Hope walks down the hall towards her father’s cell, Mister Damon waiting at the end in order to unlock the door and let them both in. It’s intense. Hope is anxious, Mister Damon is just… Mister Damon, and Klaus is fidgeting his hands or at least trying to because he has his hands cuffed.

The lock buzzes and the latch clicks. As soon as Hope and Mister Damon walk in, the door closes and the latch clicks once again. Klaus turns around to face his daughter and Damon. 

Klaus genuinely looks excited to see Hope. He has on a smile, a smile he hasn’t worn on his face in at least twenty years. He walks towards her and Damon.

  
  


“Hope! You got my messages.” He stops talking and smiles even wider. “Come, let’s solve a murder.”

  
  


Hope stares at her father’s happy face with her irritated and displeased expression.

* * *

Hope and Klaus are standing in front of each other. With a respectful distance, of course, because there is a red line on the floor in between the space of the cell where Klaus should be and the small space before the red line begins where Hope should be. She starts off their conversation.

  
  


“There’s only one thing I want from you, and that’s the truth. Tell me what you did to me.” Her voice was calm and patient, which was **_unreal_ ** when it came to her father. It was either anger or ignoring when it came to him. Was this a return of Hope Marshall?

  
  


Klaus is unphased by the question. He knew that at some point, Hope would one day ask him of everything. But, the way he was thinking she would ask was different from the question he got. Nevertheless, he was still glad that he was getting talked to.

  
  


“All right, take a seat. Damon, you can go to your usual corner. I was going to compare you to a pet, but I’m not sure if I should go with a dog or a cat.”

  
  


“Not now, Dr. Mikaelson. You have a story to tell me.” There was the Hope Mikaelson we all know and love.

  
  


Damon had the urge to answer back to Klaus, as is normal for him to do ever since he was given the chance to look over him instead of going to prison, but he opted not to say anything since Hope was in the room and he had absolute respect and care for Hope. Instead, what he opted to do was to get a chair for Hope. As Hope looks at the chair, she decides she won’t sit down and pace around the small area of the cell she was in.

  
  


“Ask me anything.”

  
  


“I’ve been remembering things about my childhood.”

  
  


Klaus looks off to the left corner of his cell, a bit wide-eyed, but that was just his typical facial expression. “Good things?”

  
  


“The girl in the box. After I found her, did you drug me to keep me from calling the police?” Her voice was calm at first, completely ignoring her dad’s question, and then accusatory.

  
  


“Hope, when was the last time you slept through the night?”

  
  


“You used chloroform, didn’t you? On a ten-year-old.”

  
  


“They make it look **_so easy_ ** in the movies, but it’s some really tricky stuff, you know? The wrong dose can easily kill you, which is a long way of saying, ‘No, I didn’t drug you.’”

  
  


Hope is starting to get upset. Her father is dancing around the subject when all she wanted was clear and concrete answers. Expecting the bare minimum out of your serial killer father is already too much. “The girl in the box-”

  
  


“Is not real. Was not real.”

  
  


His mouth hangs open a little bit. “I… I may have done some bad things, but I never did that.” Hope sighs and begins to look at the floor. She paces to the other side of the room, again. “Well, don’t take my word for it, ask the police, ask your mom, hell, ask your step-mother.”

At the mention of Aurora, Hope turns around and looks at her father. “Why Aurora? She’s never cared about me.” Wrong.

  
  


“Oh, Hope, don’t say that. Yes, she cared about you. She was around you a lot before my arrest, taking care of you and listening to everything you would say. It was like you were her world, and would know, there’s no girl in the box. We all agree that the girl in the box never existed.”

  
  


Hope snapped. “No, don’t bring my mother into this. My mother and you and Aurora are not the same. She’s willing to see my side of things. She’s willing to understand that maybe I didn’t imagine things that night and that she just didn’t know the girl did exist. She’s willing to talk things out with me. You and Aurora always told me she never existed, because, to the both of you, I ruined your lives. Well, maybe if you weren’t a fucking serial killer, maybe I wouldn’t have done anything and we would all be living happily ever after, right? You’re wrong, she’s wrong, the police are WRONG. You’re all lying to me.” Hope is on the verge of a panic attack, but she knows deep down, she needs to finish this conversation with her father and get out of here to feel better-ish. “Goodbye, Dr. Mikaelson.”

The goodbye was shakier than what she intended it to be.

Klaus, miraculously, wasn’t distraught by his daughter wanting to leave, but he wasn’t going to let her go so easily. Hope was out of luck this time around.

  
  


“You’re, uh, after a family annihilator?”

  
  


Before Hope could go out the door with Mister Damon, she closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh. She holds herself tightly, breathing in and out evenly, just like her therapists have taught her. But Mister Damon senses something’s wrong with her. “Hope, are you okay? Do you need a hug? Anything?” Both of them are seen nor heard by Klaus, for Klaus is facing his bookshelves and just admiring his medical collection.

  
  


“Mister Damon, could I just have a glass of water? I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  
  


Mister Damon looks at the auburn-haired woman. He’s really worried about Hope right now but he trusts her. So, he leaves her alone with her father to get her the glass of water. Was this the right choice or just about the worst mistake of his life… currently?

Hope turns around. “What?”

  
  


“Your suspect, this, uh, Katherine Pierce person. On the cover of The Daily News. Isn’t this your profile?”

  
  


Hope thinks about this. She analyzes carefully and briefly what she will tell her father.

  
  


“My profile is constantly evolving.” Klaus sits down in his chair and listens to what Hope tells him. As he sat down, a curl fell on his forehead.

  
  


“Got it. And your method is a mix of psychology and on-the-fly improvisation. I love it.”

  
  


Hope looks away from her father. She can’t stand to look at him right now.

  
  


“Oh, I’ve always been fascinated by familicide. To love one’s family that much..” He looks up from the newspaper towards Hope, analyzing her every move and every expression, and then back to the newspaper. “Perverted, yes. Narcissistic? Sure. But it’s most certainly love.”

  
  


At the realization of what Klaus said, Hope looked at him disgusted. So her dad indeed didn’t love anyone in his family. He didn’t kill them, therefore he didn’t love them. What was love anyway? She’s sure she doesn’t know what that feels like, but she sure as fuck knows her father has never been capable of such a feeling.

  
  


“Love? What are you talking about? You didn’t kill us.”

  
  


He puts the newspaper on his desk and faces Hope. “Well, I’m not an annihilator.” He gives Hope his signature smile. “Love didn’t drive me to kill anyone. No, it drove me to have you.”

  
  


“You always said my mother was a one-night stand, so don’t you dare try to indicate now, after 32 years, that you loved her. I’m leaving.”

  
  


This time, Klaus is surprised by how assertive his daughter is. He looks at her, dumbfounded at her response. But before she could leave, she turned around, again.

  
  


“And you’re wrong. It’s not always about who they love. It’s about who loves them. This annihilator was consumed by their hatred for Aleksandar, but… But Aleksandar didn’t love them back.” It’s all registering for Hope now.

  
  


“What’s that now?”

  
  


“Katherine didn’t care enough about her family to kill them. She wanted out. Sh-She even changed her name. Our killer wanted in.”

  
  


“Oh, that’s good.”

  
  


“That’s why they made Aleksandar watch the others die. They were punishing him, taking the one thing Aleksandar never gave them, a family.”

  
  


Klaus stands up and walks a bit closer to where Hope is, but not too close because he doesn't want to blow everything to pieces. He’s got his wide-eyed happy face on. “So, maybe the killer saw Aleksandar as a father figure?”

  
  


“No. Maybe Aleksandar was the father. I think we’re looking for an illegitimate child.”

  
  


Just then, Mister Damon was coming back with the glass of water and Hope notices, from hearing the footsteps, so she knocks on the door for him to open it. A loud beep came from outside and the door opened. Indeed, it was not his current worst mistake because everything went well. He gives her the glass of water and she leaves, out of the cell, out of the hall, outside.

  
  


“It all moves so quickly. Well, let me know what happens. Remember, my door is always open!” But Hope doesn’t hear that. Damon gets inside the cell and closes the door.

  
  


“Better luck next time, Mikaelson.”

* * *

Once outside, Hope gets her phone and calls Stefan.

  
  


“Stefan, Katherine isn’t the killer.” 

  
  


“Mikaelson, listen–” Stefan was at a new crime scene and it was important that Hope knew all the details before she kept going on her updated profile.

  
  


“The snakes, the killer was using them to frame Katherine, annihilate the black sheep of the family by having her take the fall for the crime.”

  
  


“Katherine took the fall, all right.”

  
  


“....What?”

  
  


“12 stories. Jumped from the top of her father’s building.”

  
  


Hope stopped walking. She cannot believe what she’s hearing from Stefan right now. So, Katherine killed herself? That’s not at all possible. Hope knew, from the moment she laid eyes on Katherine, that she was never capable of doing that. She knew she had a lot to live for and wanted to live. This wasn’t like Katherine, she was thrown off that building, no way was this a suicide.

  
  


“Family annihilators usually take their own lives, right?” He paused for a moment, letting Hope grasp the information he was throwing her way. “Guess she does fit the profile.”

  
  


Katherine Pierce did indeed fall down 12 stories from a building her biological father owned. She landed on the sidewalk, her right foot completely shattered, her leg twisted, her skull entirely cracked. If she didn’t die immediately from the fall, she definitely died from bleeding all over that sidewalk. Her eyes are still wide open and her entire face is filled with blood.

* * *

Hope arrived at the crime scene and ran towards Stefan. He needed to know the truth, that Katherine was framed. She was not suicidal, she had to be thrown off this building, Hope knows this is the truth.

  
  


“Stefan, Katherine wasn’t our killer.” She sort of pushes all the cops that were around Stefan, as she should, which only angered them, but that wasn’t important to her. The only thing that mattered right now was communicating with Stefan everything she knew.

  
  


“Give us a minute, Marshall.”

  
  


She winces a little bit at hearing Marshall, but pushes through in ignoring it.

  
  


“The Petrovas were killed by someone who loved the family and who wanted their love in return. Katherine didn’t care about either.”

  
  


Stefan looks around at the men behind Hope. “Excuse me, sorry.”

He grabs Hope’s arm gently and guides them both away from the crowd. “What the hell are you doing?”

  
  


“What do you mean what the hell am I doing? I’m working the case!”

  
  


“Our case just went splat! The brass wants to close it and move on.”

  
  


Behind Hope and Stefan, a crew of people are observing the body. Once they were done, they covered it back up.

  
  


“Well, they’re wrong. The killer is still out there. An illegitimate child, I’m sure of it. They could’ve pushed Katherine off the building.”

  
  


Stefan smiles at Hope and puts his hands up. “All right, kid, take a breath.”

  
  


“I don’t need to take a breath, and I don’t need sleep, and I don’t care if I seem crazy. I know that I’m right.”

  
  


He looks around to see if anyone was in their vicinity. He puts his hand on her shoulder. “Mikaelson. You want to be part of this team or not?”

  
  


“Of course I do.” Hope was telling the truth. She feels like she’s found a place where she belongs, and it’s with Stefan, Josie, and MG on cases. Josie. _Josie_.

  
  


She shakes that unrealistic, not-at-all-platonic thought out of her head. “You know this, more than anyone, but I also want to find this killer, Stefan. Please, let me run this down.” Sincerity, and implorement, were visible in her voice.

Just then, Josie and MG show up next to them. Josie was in front of MG and facing Hope and Stefan.

  
  


“There were payments. I checked through Aleksandar’s finances. Over the past month, he sent a set of payments to an anonymous recipient.” She kept looking right into Hope’s eyes. Josie was hopelessly yearning at this point. “You know, I thought that it was Katherine, but maybe…”

  
  


Hope’s eyes go wide. “He tried to pay off the annihilator.”

Josie shakes her head and the three of them look at Stefan, who seems stressed. He’s looking at the ground, touching his face. He’s thinking of his idea. He’s thinking it’s a bad idea, sending Hope and Josie on their own to solve what he’s about to tell them to do, but it seems like he’s got no choice.

He looks at the both of them, back and forth. “I can buy you,” looking at Hope, “a few more hours.”

  
  


“Go to Aleksandar’s lawyer,” looking at Josie, “I want to know who he was writing those checks to.”

  
  
  


Hope and Josie look at each other with immense intensity.

* * *

The car ride to the lawyer’s house was awkward, to say the least. It was an uncomfortable, awkward silence, where both of them would have liked to say something, but didn’t in fear of saying something they shouldn’t have.

Once there, they get out of the car and enter through the backyard. Walking through the backyard, they notice that there is a man playing with two kids. Must be the husband, or another family member. At the end, near the picnic table and the barbecue, was the lawyer.

  
  


“Ms. Gilbert?”

  
  


Gilbert? Why did that name sound so familiar to Hope…?

Elena Gilbert-Salvatore turns around, annoyed as hell at Hope and Josie. Hope starts to observe her from head to toe, trying to figure out why her name is so familiar. And why does she also look so familiar…

Elena Gilbert-Salvatore. In her late 30s, getting close to 40, looks a little too familiar, has a name that’s a little too familiar. Has an exterior that screams “I’m a good fucking person”, but in reality, has just been through too much shit and her morality is clouded by a passion she confuses with love. Hope Mikaelson and Josie Parker don’t know she’s ALSO a Salvatore.

  
  


“NYPD. Sorry to barge in like this, but we had a few questions come up.”

  
  


Both of them are pretty close to Elena right now. If the brunette was bothered by the situation, she never said anything.

  
  


“Regarding Katherine? I heard.. When I last spoke with her, I never noticed that she was suicidal. First Aleksandar and the whole family, then Katherine. I’m really upset about it.”

  
  


“Oh, we’re not sure she was. We think Katherine was killed by the same person that murdered her family. Possibly an illegitimate child.” Oh, Hope, always trying to see what she could say in order to trigger emotions out of suspects.

  
  


“Bank records show that you made payments for Aleksandar to an anonymous recipient. Do you happen to know who he was paying?”

  
  


Josie is curious, just like Hope, to see Elena’s reactions, but not for the same reasons. Hope is convinced that Elena is THE illegitimate child that they’re looking for. Josie is just desperate to figure out who the anonymous recipient is because she knows that they’re the killer. Finding out who the killer is may take a while.

  
  


“Mom, I’m hungry.”

  
  


“I’m-I’m coming, sweetie.”

  
  


She diverts her attention back to the grill. Josie has her hands crossed, listening to whatever Elena wants to say. Hope has her hands in her pockets, farther back from them, paying attention to all the small details. And thinking.

  
  


“Uh… Those payments were small loans, not some kind of hush money. Aleksandar was a family man.”

  
  


Hope interjects then, still observing, still thinking. “How long did you work for him?”

  
  


“15 years.”

  
  


Elena grabs a beer bottle from nearby and takes a small drink, then puts it down again.

  
  


“He was like a mentor to you?”

  
  


“Absolutely. All this is because of him.”

  
  


Hope nods. She notices that Elena is wiping her forehead and notices how pale she looks. She then observes her hands.

  
  


“Mom!”

  
  


“Oh, my-my kids really are starving, give me one second?”

  
  


Hope nods in acknowledgment. Elena grabs the burgers, puts them on a plate, and sets them down on the picnic table. The family is laughing, enjoying themselves. They look like a peaceful, caring family.

That’s when Hope makes the connection. Her father called her in one of the many times that she ignored him and he left a voicemail mentioning a family annihilator by the name of John Gilbert. John Gilbert killed his entire family in the 90s, thought to have been in 96. But, if John Gilbert killed his entire family so long ago, how was it possible that Elena was alive today? Unless she wasn’t there when the murder happened…. But she’s also in her 30s… Then if she wasn’t there and she was a Gilbert, then what’s her connection with Aleksandar Petrova and the rest of the family? Could it be possible that a Gilbert family member survived and took her in after Aleksandar put her up for adoption? Too many questions, too many theories.

Hope is generating a lot of thoughts right now. It’s a little overwhelming, but she’s got this. She tries to organize all of her thoughts to put it in order. What she doesn’t notice is that Josie is looking at her questioningly. She’s concerned about Hope, she looks a little off to her.

  
  


“Mikaelson, what is it?”

  
  


“She fits the profile. And there’s something else. Something that could really jeopardize this whole visit. But I’ll give you the details I can officially confirm. She’s the right age to be Aleksandar’s daughter, she’s exhibiting multiple stress reactions, and she’s still protective of the victim.”

  
  


“But it makes no sense. You’d have to hate Aleksandar to torture him like that.”

  
  


“Not for the annihilator. You have to love them like family.”

  
  


Josie gulps and looks away from Hope. Hope also looks away. Just then, Elena comes back to see them.

  
  


“I’m really sorry, they’re going berserk back there and my friend, Tyler, can’t handle them so well. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  
  


Josie smiles, a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes, a professional smile. Hope is back to looking at her and she can’t help but think about what it’s like to ki-

  
  


“We just have a few more questions, Ms. Gilbert.”

  
  


Hope shakes away her thoughts and begins to hit Elena with the questions. “You said Aleksandar was a family man, but come on, his family hated him.” She knows and expects the reaction that she’ll get from Elena to be a possessive, protective response.

Elena was working on the grill again, but at the mention of a bad comment on Aleksandar, she instinctively turned around with her index finger pointed at Hope. Hope and Josie are looking right at Elena.

  
  


“Hey, don’t-don’t say that.”

  
  


A pause. Elena knows in this moment that she’s given an answer that wasn’t adequate. “The man’s dead.”

  
  


“Mommy, can I go swing now?”

  
  


“Did you get enough to eat?”

  
  


The little girl shakes her head. Hope notices that the child has discoloration on her neck. Vitiligo. There’s the connection. Elena really was the daughter of Aleksandar. She must’ve been adopted by a Gilbert at some point when she was really little. Unbeknownst to the little girl that she’s being observed, she leaves to go to the swings with her older sister and the man named Tyler. Hope is beyond shocked at her discovery.

  
  


“She has vitiligo.”

  
  


Josie realizes what this means and is also in shock.

  
  


“Yeah. She’s self-conscious, but the doctor says that it’s harmless. You know, it runs in the family.”

  
  


Oh my god. What will Elena say now? She can’t cover up this Freudian slip. Not like she did last time.

  
  


“Aleksandar had it, too.”

  
  


Hope looks at her dead in the eye. She did it. She revealed it all on her own. Elena Gilbert really is the daughter of Aleksandar Petrova.

Josie is also looking at Elena, but she’s also reaching for her gun.

  
  


“Which makes sense. So you’re his daughter.” Hope took a step further towards Elena.

  
  


Silence. Elena looks back and forth between Hope and Josie, anger written all over her face. She then rests her eyes on Hope, her anger is all directed at her.

  
  


“Did Aleksandar know? Is that why he hired you?” Hope hasn’t stopped looking at her, but now she looks at her with slight amusement. She knows she’s upsetting Elena, she makes her expressions so obvious.

  
  


“No. I sought him out. Worked for him for years. He had no idea. Finally, I got up the nerve to tell him. I thought… he’d welcome me with open arms. You know what he did? He wrote me a check for 50 grand and told me to get out of his life.”

  
  


In the background, the swing Elena’s daughter is on is creaking. Tyler is pushing her from behind while both daughters are laughing and having a good time.

Josie finds the strength to finally speak. While Hope was shocked and amused, she wasn’t scared to confront Elena. She knows that Elena has more to tell and will do it on her own, just like she did now. Josie is scared because she thinks that something bad will happen to Hope again. She’s wrong, but something definitely bad will happen.

  
  


“Why don’t you come down to the station with us? Your daughters don't have to find out like this. Neither does your friend, Tyler.”

  
  


Elena looks up at the sky and smirks. “They’re never gonna find out.”

Elena was correct. Her daughters and Tyler were never going to find out the truth. The swing creaks, but it’s empty. Where is her daughter? Where is Tyler? He’s not behind the swing. Josie turns around to see what’s happening and sees a horror unfolding right in front of her eyes.

  
  


“Marshall?”

  
  


Once again, Hope winces at the last name. Once upon a time, Hope thought that Marshall was her lifeline and that Mikaelson was her downfall. But when she saw that the team, especially Josie, is slowly embracing her, even as a Mikaelson, as well as her family supporting her and her career endeavors each and every step of the way, she began to think that maybe being a Mikaelson wasn’t so bad.

Hope looks at Josie briefly and turns around. Tyler and Elena’s oldest daughter is passed out on the picnic table, while the youngest is passed out on the grass. Or dead, because they’re not moving. With her eyes wide open, she turns around to face Elena.

  
  


“The food. You poisoned them when we showed up. You knew we were on to you.”

  
  


Elena smirks. “Yeah, but just remember, I ate, too. But before I die, you should know, Hope Mikaelson, that my full name is Elena Gilbert-Salvatore. Now guess which brother I married. That shouldn’t be too hard, now should it?”

And with that, Elena closed her eyes, chuckled, and passed out. Or died. Because she stopped moving.

* * *

It was a race against the clock and Hope couldn’t move. How does Elena know her name? The fact that she’s married to Damon Salvatore, her father’s caretaker at Claremont, Stefan’s brother. The brother that did something so awful that Stefan knows how she **_feels_ ** when it comes to her father. This was all an afterthought. What was important was to figure out how she knew she was a Mikaelson. It couldn’t have been when Josie called out to her. That was a whisper, she would have to have vampire or werewolf hearing in order to have heard Josie.

It was a race against the clock and Josie was the only one moving. She’s the only one checking on Elena’s daughters and Tyler. She understands that Hope is in shock, but she really needs her right now. She calls for Hope, but Hope doesn’t reply. Can Hope even hear her right now?

It was a race against the clock and everything is going in slow motion. Hope panicking. Josie running towards Hope.

  
  


“Hope, please, I really need you right now.” It was a plea, but not the plea Josie wanted to give and not the plea that Hope desired to hear.

  
  


They ran towards the bodies. Josie, leaning by the swings, takes out her phone.

  
  


“Elena Gilbert poisoned herself and her entire family.”

  
  


Hope is checking Tyler’s and the oldest daughter’s pulses. They’re still alive, but barely. They’re on the brink of death, one foot in the land of the living and the other in the land of the dead.

  
  


“Mikaelson, how long we got?”

  
  


“They’re already unconscious.Ten minutes before they’re dead. Five for the girls.”

  
  


“We need an ambulance at 3131 Sycamore Lane.”

  
  


It was a race against the clock and both Hope Mikaelson and Josie Parker are extremely anxious. They’re looking at every single one of them and can’t think of what to do next.

  
  


“What do we do?”

  
  


Silence. Perspiration on Hope’s forehead. What was it that she said earlier? Ah yes, exhibiting stress reactions.

  
  


“Mikaelson!”

  
  


“Gilbert poisoned the Petrovas with a high dose of metoprolol. It was used to stop their hearts.”

  
  


“I’m thinking she used the same thing on them. What do they need?”

  
  


“Uh.. a jump start! A real kick! Uh.. atropine!”

  
  


“I have a medkit in the car. Go, go, go, go, go.”

  
  


Hope runs as fast as she can to the car. She opens up the trunk and moves around some things until she finds the medkit. She grabs it and rushes back to Josie and the others. Josie was trying to get one of their hearts to start again, but that didn’t work. Hope knelt next to Josie and opened the medkit to find the case with the atropine.

  
  


“Jab them in the leg. Soft tissue.”

  
  


It was a race against the clock and Josie stabbed the youngest with the container, while Hope went towards the oldest and Tyler to do the same procedure.

  
  


“How long before it works?”

  
  


“I don’t know, it depends on the dose.”

  
  


Josie looks at Hope, like she’s hoping it’s soon rather than later. She needs them all to wake up right now. Waiting for them to react felt like an eternity passed between the stab of atropine and her asking Hope, and it was all silent until the youngest had a deep intake of air, followed by the oldest and Tyler.

Josie grabs the girl and holds her into a hug. Tyler hugs the girl next to him. Hope and Josie tell them they’re going to be okay.

Our heroine, Hope Mikaelson, walks towards a shaking Elena Gilbert-Salvatore and kneels right above her, dose in her hand. She uncaps the container, to which Elena hears and tries her hardest to face Hope.

  
  


“Don’t-don’t… Don’t do it. I don’t want to live.”

  
  


Hope stares at her. “I know.”

Will she stab Elena with the atropine? Or will she not? Decisions, decisions.

In the end, Hope gives Elena the atropine. She needs to know how Elena knows her name, she needs to know if the connections and theories she’s made about the brunette are correct. Just like she still needs to know what Aurora and her mom talked about.

* * *

Hope is back at the precinct and she’s with Stefan at his office. He opens a bottle of whiskey and pours a tiny bit for her in a glass.

  
  


“You saved that family today. As a part of this team, you should be proud of yourself.”

  
  


Hope stares at him in disbelief. She can’t believe he said she was part of the team. That made her really happy. She grabs her glass, moves the whiskey around a bit, and drinks some of it.

  
  


“Yeah. Definitely.”

  
  


Stefan is looking at her cautiously, like if the words he wants to say next are going to cause a problem, as if everything might go wrong in the next couple of seconds.

  
  


“Kid, what do I need to know? How bad is it?”

  
  


Hope looks off into the distance, past Stefan’s office chair. She then looks down at the glass she’s holding and moves the whiskey again.

  
  


“You don’t have to worry about me. I can do the job.” She lets out a sigh. “Actually, it’s the place I feel most normal.” She pauses. “I need it.”

  
  


“Yeah. That’s not a good thing. Nobody needs this.”

  
  


A pause.

  
  


“Why’d you come back, Mikaelson? You could have gone anywhere, stayed away from New York and from your father’s legacy. Why come home?”

  
  


Another pause. Hope really thinks about his questions, his analysis. But she knows the truth. She knows the answer.

  
  


“You can only run away from your past for so long.”

  
  


But then, she lies.

  
  


“And you know… Home is where the heart is.” Her heart was **_nowhere_ **. She sometimes even wonders if she has a heart. Maybe how she feels around Josie is a clear indication of her having one.

  
  


So Stefan laughed.

  
  


“Here’s to family.”

  
  


Their glasses clink and Stefan drinks his whiskey, knowing that Hope Mikaelson was being dishonest.

  
  


“You’ll uh.. Call me on another case?” Hope is sitting fully back against the couch now, fumbling with the glass.

  
  


“Absolutely. One hundred percent.” He smiles at her, to which she gives a small smile back. Stefan chuckles and Hope finishes the whiskey, putting the glass down.

  
  


“Goodnight, Stefan.” As soon as she gets up, she falls down but extends her hands on the table so as to not fall flat on her face.

  
  


“Hey, what’s that? One drink and you’re falling down?”

  
  


He gets up to help her out, but she gets up rather quickly. “I’m fine, I’m fine. They, uh, must have given me Ativan at the hospital. That or an antihistamine.” She turns to face Stefan, a big grin on her face. “Something’s reacting with the alcohol. But I’m fine.”

She keeps walking and stumbles, her head almost hitting the office door. She laughs at this. Stefan grabs her arm and holds her firmly in position.

  
  


“Mikaelson, you are not getting yourself home like this.”

  
  


He leads her out of his office.

  
  


“Parker, little help here, please?”

  
  


Stefan rubs her shoulders and Hope is just staring into the void… Gay panicking.

* * *

Hope and Josie are at the apartment building right now, going up the stairs and heading to her loft. Once there, Hope unlocks the door and lets Josie in.

  
  


“You know, you didn’t have to escort me. I told you, I was just going to come home and sleep.”

  
  


Josie follows Hope within her line of vision. “Were you, though?”

The auburn-haired woman sits on the step before reaching her bed and begins to take off her shoes. “Yeah.”

Josie begins to take in the loft in all its glory: the parakeet is chirping and is high up, just like the fish ─ but the cat doesn’t take their eyes off of them. Let’s not forget the murder weapons. All of those katanas, the guns, and the knives. Old, yet cost a whole fortune.

She walks deeper into the loft, this was her opportunity to see Hope Mikaelson with her two, light brown eyes, as if it was for the first time.

  
  


“You sure do have a lot of blades.”

  
  


“Uh…” She grunts instead of replying properly. Who knew it would be so difficult to remove ankle boots?

  
  


But the gay panic settles in once again, a little too comfortably. Josie turns around to pay attention to what Hope says. “Blunt force weapons as well. The morning star is uh, is from the 13th century.”

  
  


“I guess it’s good.. Good to have hobbies.” She wants to change the topic quickly. “Is this a parakeet? And a fish? Why are they so high up? Is it because of your cat?” As she talks, she walks back towards Hope. She’s struggling and Josie figured she could use all the help she needs.

  
  


“Yeah, Sergeant Oliver likes to try and hunt down Ono and Flynn sometimes. Ono is my parakeet’s name and Flynn is my fish’s name, by the way.”

  
  


“I’m sorry, Sergeant Oliver?” Josie is basically teasing Hope for the name choice.

  
  


“It’s a unique name for him. Don’t make it weird.” Hope gets up and flings herself onto her bed. She hasn’t even changed into her pajamas but it’s because she doesn’t want Josie to know what they look like.

  
  


Josie keeps moving towards Hope, staring at her questioningly. “Ho-How do you sleep like this?”

Hope is on the other side of the bed, looking for the restraint that would go on her right hand, with no luck. How drunk is she right now that she can’t see the restraint is right in front of her face?

She looks back, back to where she thinks Josie is at. “Eh. Who says I sleep?” She’s pointing towards the air with her index finger, chuckling, and heads back to trying to find the restraint. “These are for the night terrors.”

  
  


“What do you do when you… Have company?”

  
  


Josie sighs softly, in hopes that the auburn-haired woman doesn’t hear it. Hope looks back again, her arm stretched out, trying to point at Josie. “Well, I’ve never slept with anyone.” She realizes what she said and tries to look for Josie once again. “I mean, I’m not a…”

A chuckle. From both of them. A blush across the face. From both of them.

  
  


“I mean, I’ve had sex. Plenty of sex.”

  
  


“I get it. I got it.” Josie is so grateful that Hope is drunk right now, because she cannot control her blushing right now. She clears her throat.

  
  


Hope has finally put on the right restraint and headed to the other side of the bed to put on the left restraint, but notices that she’ll take another 20 minutes trying to put on this one. Thankfully, Josie was already nearby her.

  
  


“Are you having some trouble?” Josie smiles at her, but on the inside, her heart was going at a thousand miles per hour and she still couldn’t stop blushing. But she definitely noticed that Hope was also blushing.

  
  


Hope lays back. “My uh.. My hand-to-eye coordination is a little bit lacking.”

  
  


“I can see that. Is it okay if I can help you?” She sits on the bed next to Hope and Hope just stares at her dumbfounded.

  
  


The gay panic rises up Hope again. Without properly realizing nor analyzing what she says, Hope just…

  
  


“Sure. Yeah. That’d be great.”

  
  


“Okay.”

  
  


Josie grabs the restraint and puts it around Hope’s left wrist. She tightens and secures it into place. Hope is looking at her wrist, at Josie’s hands. At Josie’s perfect hands. _Josie’s hands_.

She shakes her head and looks up at the brunette. “Thank you.”

A whisper. From both.

  
  


“You’re welcome.” Josie holds on to her wrist one more time before she lets go. Hope leans back and puts her head on the pillow, closing her eyes. Josie is looking at her, lips pursed.

  
  


“So, uh, is this the uh.. Is this the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”

  
  


A pause. Josie shakes her head. “Not even close.”

Hope exhales and mumbles out something, no one knows what she said.

  
  


“Goodnight, Mikaelson.” Josie opens the door and closes it behind her.

  
  


Another night, another pavor nocturnus.

* * *

_Young Hope Mikaelson is laying in her bed. Someone puts her arm over her middle as she sleeps. It was Klaus._

_Klaus Mikaelson is tucking in his daughter. Just then, two women come in. Aurora and Hayley._

_Aurora was the first one to speak. “Klaus, is everything…”_

_Klaus shushes her. Both women walk closer to him._

  
  


_“Look who came to visit me in the basement.”_

  
  


_Both women look at our Young Hope Mikaelson._

_Hayley looks at Klaus tucking in her daughter. “Oh Hope, you know you shouldn’t be down there in your dad’s study.”_

_Klaus rolls his eyes. “Don’t be too hard on the little girl. I think she was sleepwalking.”_

  
  


_“Is she alright? Did she hurt herself?” Both women look at Klaus._

  
  


_“Now, both of you, don’t fret. She’s completely fine. I doubt that she’ll even remember this in the morning.”_

  
  


_“Oh.. Sweet dreams, my love.” Hayley leans in and kisses her on the forehead._

  
  


_She looks at both Klaus and Aurora, says goodnight, and leaves._

_Aurora then leans into Hope and gives her a kiss on the forehead as well. Then, she turns to Klaus. “My love.” She kisses him softly._

_She also leaves and as she opens the door, Young Hope lifts her arm up and weakly calls for both women. Klaus notices, grabs her arm, and waves it for Hope, as if she was trying to say goodbye. Both Aurora and Hayley are outside the door now, looking in._

  
  


_“Goodbye, mommy and Aurora,” Klaus mockingly replies for her._

  
  


_Both women laugh and Aurora closes the door. Klaus stays holding Young Hope’s hand._

  
  


_“I saw a girl.” Klaus is sitting on the bed now. “I saw her.”_

  
  


_“No, Hope. No, the girl… was only a dream. And because she was a dream, she’s_ **_not real_ ** _. Mommy and Aurora don’t need to know anything, okay?”_

  
  


_He grabs the cloth from earlier and puts on some chloroform. “It was all just a dream.”_

_He puts it against Young Hope’s nose and mouth again._

_Young Hope is trying to breathe, but she can’t. All she can do is scream._

_And that’s exactly what she does._

_She’s screaming and visions of her father shushing her flood her mind, visions of her mother, Aurora_

It’s all over. She wakes up again, screaming.

* * *

It’s a beautiful day at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. Klaus Mikaelson is feeling himself today, as he writes down in his journal and listens to music loudly in his headphones.

Hope Mikaelson and Damon Salvatore are behind him. Mister Damon is about to go up to him and let him know that Hope is here when she grabs his arm and tells him to just wait until he notices.

It’s then she takes advantage of the fact that Mister Damon was next to her to spark up a much-needed conversation.

  
  


“Mister Damon, you’ve paid attention to my conversations with my father, correct?”

  
  


“Yeah, sort of. Why do you ask?”

  
  


“Well, I’m curious. You weren’t there when I talked to him about the annihilator, so I wanted to let you know how he reacted. And of course, I came here to tell him I found out who it was and to ask him again about my memories. Last time I was here, I basically came to the conclusion that the annihilator was an illegitimate child. And I was right. I even found out who she was.”

  
  


“Oh, it was a woman?”

  
  


“Yes, Mister Damon. Your wife, Elena Gilbert-Salvatore.”

  
  


At the mention of Elena’s name, Damon’s eyes flew wide open. He hasn’t seen his wife since the day of his arrest, no, since the day of his court case, something he hated that he had in common with Klaus Mikaelson. Yes, Elena has never bothered to visit him at least once and all he can think about is how this was karma.

  
  


“H-H-H-How did you know it was my wife?”

  
  


“She said her last name was also Salvatore. And she also happened to be the lawyer of Aleksandar Petrova. It wasn’t hard to figure out which Salvatore she married when I had seen Caroline for most of my life whenever Stefan came to visit after my dad’s arrest. But she also said my name, and I can’t stop thinking about how she knows my name.”

  
  


Damon is still wide-eyed. “I’ll let her tell you all those details herself. It’s not right for me to tell her story.” Oh, Mister Damon, so loyal to a wife that doesn’t care about him, even in permanent punishment.

Klaus groans, stretching his back. He turns his office chair and finally notices that Hope and Damon are behind him.

  
  


“Hope!” Damon leaves the cell, and Hope watches him leave. She hopes that she wasn’t cruel to him. He’s always so nice to her.

  
  


“How long have you been here?”

  
  


“Tell me about the girl in the box and I’ll tell you who the family annihilator was.”

  
  


Klaus groans and stretches again, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “There wasn’t any girl. There couldn’t be.”

  
  


“There was. I remember her.”

  
  


“Your dreams.”

  
  


“THEY’RE NOT DREAMS. STOP DISMISSING ME LIKE I’M A CHILD.”

  
  


Hope had her hands folded in front of her, but then quickly put her hands in her pockets. She didn’t want her father to see her shaking in anger.

  
  


“They’re memories. After I found her, you drugged me. And that gave you just enough time to..”

  
  


“To what, kill her?” Klaus was rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Hmm? Chop her up? And what did you do? During this… Missing time.”

  
  


She stares at her father, wrath clouding her judgment, swallowing it down like acid. “I don’t know.”

  
  


“Ah.” He chuckles, lifting his index finger and pointing upward. “Be careful, Hope. If you didn’t call the cops after you found the girl, then how long did it take you to make that call? Days? Weeks? Months? How many other people died? And why can’t you remember? Perhaps it’s better if you don’t.”

  
  


Hope is staring anywhere but at her father. She wants to **_cry_ ** and **_never stop crying_ **. Why can’t he just answer the question, for fuck’s sake? She can’t deal with this, she can’t deal with him, she can’t deal with the question that will never have an answer. So she does the only thing she knows she can do. She stares at him and begins to walk away. The lock buzzes and the latch clicks, signaling that she can open the door from her end of the cell. Before she walks out, she turns to face her father one last time. But surely, not the ACTUAL last time.

  
  


“Don’t worry, Dr. Mikaelson. I plan to find out.”

  
  


She walks out. The door closes and the latch clicks again.

  
  


“Good for you.” Klaus is staring at the door, his signature smile on his face. He turns back towards his desk and continues to write out in his journal and listen to his music. 

  
  


Damon Salvatore uses the payphone, those old payphones that don’t exist anywhere outside of this psychiatric hospital, and dials a number.

  
  


“You asked me to call.”

  
  


“She went back?”

  
  


“Yeah, she just left.”

  
  


Back at the Mikaelson Townhouse, a group of women was huddled at the dinner table around the cellphone.

The group of women, you ask? Hayley Marshall, Freya Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, and….. Aurora de Martel.

  
  


“Thank you, Damon. That’s good to know.”

  
  


Hayley hangs up the phone and looks at all the women in the room, especially Aurora. She grabs the phone and anger consumes her, eats her insides, and escapes through her hands. She screams and throws her phone to the floor, shattering completely. Not one piece left whole.

Klaus Mikaelson, her downfall, the reason she’s barely alive, will not win. She will not lose her only daughter to the one man she wishes she could kill, just like he almost killed her.

**End of Part 3, End of "Annihilator"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, you'll see a new case, plus that interesting conversation with elena. i'll see when i can have next chapter uploaded. i also want to work on the smau and other stuff, including two new fics. :)
> 
> follow me on twitter, my @ is @k3ytoev3rything


	9. Fear Response - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! sorry for late updates on this fic! if you don't know just yet, i recently adopted a one month old kitten and she's super adorable. pictures are on my twitter :)
> 
> tw / murder, symptoms of ptsd throughout, mention of ptsd, vivid description of murdered person, alcohol, drugging, chloroform

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Fear Response Part 1**

Upon leaving Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, Hope Mikaelson heads towards the NYU Winthrop Hospital to see Elena Gilbert-Salvatore and find out what her story was, for her own personal reasons. If only she were this quick at trying to find out why her mother and Aurora were talking, right?

She checks in with the front desk, where they tell her Elena is on the 3rd floor, and proceeds to the elevator. Once at Elena’s room, upon seeing that she wasn’t asleep, confronted her immediately.

  
  


“Tell me how you know my name. Tell me why you never mentioned you were married to Damon until the last minute, when you thought you were going to die.”

  
  


Elena laughs weakly. “You’re telling me to answer all the wrong questions.”

  
  


“Then, what should I be telling you to answer?” Hope crosses her arms.

  
  


“First of all, haven’t you wondered why I had the Gilbert name when every Gilbert died?”

  
  


Hope wanted to answer with a yes, but opted not to. Instead, she waited to see what Elena would say.

  
  


“Second of all, haven’t you wondered why I tried to contact my biological father in the first place? No? Well, guess you’re in for a wild story, then I’ll answer everything else. Sounds fair with you?”

  
  


“Sure.” So Hope grabs one of the chairs in the room and puts as much respectful distance between herself and Elena.

  
  


“Let’s start with the Gilbert story first. As I’m sure you know, since you have a serial killer daddy and all, John Gilbert killed everyone in my family. Or so he thought. My adoptive father. He wasn’t there when John massacred everyone. He was at a friend’s house when everything went down. Due to having no living relative after that, he was sent to the foster care system, where he went from house to house around New York City for his entire life, until he finished college and had a career of his own. Jeremy Gilbert, that’s his name. He saved my life when he found out that Aleksandar didn’t want me. He took me in when no one else would.”

  
  


Elena stares at her fidgeting hands. Hope doesn’t feel any sympathy at all for this woman. Perhaps it’s because of her father’s side of the genes or only because she’s here to grasp what she wants. Maybe both?

  
  


“Continue with the rest of the story.”

  
  


“You’re so impatient.” Elena laughs weakly again, but continues. “I tried to contact Aleksandar, not because I wanted his money, but because I wanted to see if he wanted to get to know me, see the person that I’ve become. I went through law school and became one of the newest top lawyers in all of New York. Jeremy was proud of me, I wanted to see if he would have the same reaction. But, as you already know, once I told him, he just gave me money and told me to get out of his life. That hurt. And seeing that Katherine wanted nothing to do with him? It made me want to  **_scream_ ** .”

  
  


“... And that justifies you wanting to kill them all, right?” Hope scoffs. “This is ridiculous. Yes, I wondered why you had the Gilbert name, but don’t you dare try to compare our experiences. I went through  **_hell_ ** and still go through it because I  **_lived it_ ** . You didn’t. Neither did your dad. So spare me the fucking bullshit and get straight to the point already: How is it possible that you know my last name?”

  
  


“Because I have eyes and ears everywhere Damon is, silly. I don’t bother going to see Damon, but I do make sure to know everything about him. And it will always be like that.”

  
  


Hope stares at her wide-eyed, gets up, and runs out the hospital doors, out to the parking lot, out to the taxi, back to her place.

* * *

If Hayley Marshall didn’t know what it was like to be Hope for a day, she does now. Hayley Marshall began to relive the day of Klaus Mikaelson’s arrest in her mind. But it wasn’t the only thing she re-lived.

  
  


**_2022_ **

_ Many cameras flashing, many conversations occurring all around the Mikaelson Townhouse, inside and outside. _

  
  


_ “Tonight, NYPD arrested Dr. Klaus Mikaelson in connection to at least 23 murders.” _

  
  


_ Hayley was next to Freya and Keelin, who were holding Nik, crying in their arms. Klaus was kneeling in front of Hope. _

_ Hope Mikaelson. The daughter she desperately wanted to protect with every fiber of her being, the daughter she would do anything for. _

  
  


_ “Get him out of here!” _

  
  


_ Klaus, with his signature smile on his face. Klaus, with his signature smile on his face, being carried away by the police. Klaus, with his signature smile on his face, being carried away by the police, looking back at the only daughter he’s ever had. _

  
  


**_2022 - Sometime after_ **

  
  


_ Hayley Marshall approaches the prison with Aurora de Martel, the only two people allowed to see Klaus Mikaelson at this point. They look inside the visitor’s center of the prison and see that no other prisoners nor any other visitors were inside. A little suspicious, but they carry on. _

_ The buzz sounds, indicating that the two women were allowed to enter. The guard lets them in, which they kindly thank him, and head towards the table to sit in front of Klaus. _

  
  


_ “You two look stunning today.” _

  
  


_ Aurora was the only one to respond. “Thank you.” _

  
  


_ “How is my daughter? How is my nephew?” _

  
  


_ The women look at each other and respond in unison. “They’re…” _

_ He tries to grab their hands, forgetting that he’s handcuffed to the table. “We can beat this. I’ve retained an attorney,” he looks slyly at Aurora “your brother, Tristan. He reassures me that with our assets combined, nothing, and he means nothing, no criminal charge of any kind is insurmountable.” _

_ Aurora was happy about this, she wanted her husband back after his daughter ruined their lives. Deep down, she thinks briefly of Hope, of how much she’s proud that she did the right thing at the end of the day, of how much she does love her, and how she doesn’t think she can stop loving her, but it’s much easier to think that she ruined their lives. A rather conflicting situation on her part. Hayley, on the other hand, did not want to hear anything further coming from him. Not at all conflicting for her. _

  
  


_ “Stop..” _

  
  


_ “I’ll come back to you, Aurora. I’ll be a better father to our daughter, Hayley.” _

  
  


_ “I said, stop!” _

  
  


_ A long pause. Hayley lets out a sigh. _

  
  


_ “I thought that we all had a good life together. That your siblings living with us, Aurora living with us, myself included being part of this family, Hope and Nik playing together, getting along. This was the life that we had, I thought this was a good life.” _

  
  


_ “And we still can.” _

  
  


_ Aurora spoke then. “My mother taught me a lot of things. As I’m sure Hayley would agree with me on this, since we come from similar backgrounds, but I’m positive my mother never taught me this… To ignore my husband being a serial killer. But I would’ve sacrificed everything for you, Klaus. I would’ve done anything to keep you near me, to keep you near your daughter. So that you can raise her properly with Hayley. But Hope did the right thing, I’m convinced of it.” Bluff or truth? _

_ Klaus looks at both women. “But you both made many sacrifices. You both continue to make sacrifices and will continue, in the future, to make many more sacrifices. I’m positive of this, as I’m also positive that we will get through this.” _

_ Hayley looks at him, flabbergasted. “Look at this place. You are never getting out of here, Klaus. You are going to be in a cage for the rest of your life…” _

_ She lets out a shaky sigh. “After what you did, I will not be coming back here.” _

  
  


_ “Neither will I.” _

  
  


_ “None of us will. Not Hope, not Nik, not even your siblings. Do you understand?” She lets out the next part so quietly, she’s positive that Klaus didn’t hear. But he did. “Not ever.” _

  
  


_ The buzzer sounds, the door unlocks, and both women stand up and leave a bewildered Klaus behind. _

* * *

In the present day, Hayley Marshall arrives at the apartment complex she owns, where her daughter lives. Her driver, Chad, gets out of the car and opens the door for her. She gets out, heads towards the complex’s main door, and buzzes for Hope’s loft. No response. She buzzes once again. No response.

Unbeknownst to her, Hope is going through another pavor nocturnus. She’s moving around, panting in her sleep. Whatever the dream is, it must be very intense.

Hayley Marshall has not stopped pressing the button, the buzzing continues. Hope Mikaelson has not stopped dreaming about the girl in the box. Sharp inhaling and groans come from her sleep.

Frustrated, Hayley grabs keys from her purse. “Oh, Hope.” Oh, Hope, indeed. She tries the locks and realizing that she can’t open the locks, she scoffs. “She changed the locks.”

Meanwhile, Hope’s nightmare has shifted. Her father is once again putting chloroform on her, and she can’t stop thinking about what he told her the last time she saw him: “Be careful, Hope. How many other people died? And why can’t you remember?”

Hayley pulls the key out of the lock, moves backward, and looks upward, towards where Hope’s loft is and yells. “You changed the locks?!”

Hope is moving around violently in her bed. Violently is an understatement. Hayley pulls out her phone and dials Hope’s number. When she doesn’t pick up, she smiles and scoffs again. She begins the voicemail: “Hope, in response to your… security upgrade, may I remind you that you shouldn’t be doing that because 1. I don’t invade your loft and never have and 2. I own the building. Now, please, open the door!” Anger and frustration pour out through Hayley’s words like a glass filled with bourbon. And it’s all because Hope never confided in her that she went to see her father.

The problem, however, is that Hope’s restraints were not tight enough. The screw that holds the end of the strap to the wall was being yanked out with every turn, every pull, and every movement in general that Hope was doing. In one final pull and with Hayley’s “open the door,” Hope Mikaelson flew out the window, sustained by the restraint that wasn’t yanked off.

All the glass fell onto the sidewalk and Hope is just holding on for dear life. Hayley gasps, as shards are falling down. Luckily enough for her, she didn’t get hurt. “Are you alright?!”

Yes, Hope was holding on for dear life, but she was completely confused and didn’t understand how she made it to this. Having recently woken up, she was trying to open her eyes properly and figure out why she could hear her mother, but she nodded anyway. “Well, good, buzz me in, will you?”

Hope pants, looking all around her as she breathes in as much as she can.

* * *

Hayley is inside Hope’s loft now, drinking whiskey. She poured one for Hope as well. “You’ll be needing one, too, at least I assume you will by the looks of what just happened.”

Hope is finally within the inside of her loft, walking towards her mother. “I’m fine.” A very assertive answer from her part. Hayley looks at her from head to toe, extremely worried about her daughter’s safety. “Hope, how can you say you’re fine? Those restraints are clearly useless! I’ll be making a mental note to myself to look into a custom bed frame for you.”

Frustrated, Hope lifts her hands up and sighs loudly. “Mother, can you calmly explain why you’ve come here?” Both women felt weird after that question. Hope, because she never talks to her mom like that. On the contrary, she’s extremely grateful for her mother, but it seems like the vibes and energies bouncing off the walls and their bodies aren’t so positive today. Hayley, because she’s nervous about what she’s going to say next.

  
  


“You’re seeing your father.”

  
  


Hope looks at her mother wide-eyed. She feels like she can’t breathe, as if a panic attack is coming to her. She tries to level her breathing the best way that she can. After what seems like forever, she finally musters enough strength, enough breath, to answer her mother.

  
  


“I’m a consultant with the NYPD. He proved helpful with my casework.” She looks her mother dead in the eye, with the most serious face she’s ever put on in a while. Let’s see if she can convince her mother with that.

  
  


A scoff.

  
  


“Oh, so you’re a team now?”

  
  


A head nod, anger written all over.

  
  


“Father and daughter, solving crimes. How sweet of you both.”

  
  


Another angry face, another sip of whiskey.

  
  


“I have no intention of returning.”

  
  


“This is exactly what he wants. This is what he has always wanted ー a relationship with the ‘prodigal daughter’. To control you, to infect your mind.”

  
  


Head down, eyes down, head lifts up, eyes firmly closed, anger returning.

  
  


“He does not control me.”

  
  


The same anger, permeated still.

  
  


“I JUST WATCHED YOU THROW YOURSELF OUT A WINDOW.”

  
  


Sadness. So much sadness.

Hope looks away from her mother once again. Hayley notices how her daughter is feeling. She tries to tone down her anger as much as she can.

  
  


“I know that deep down, you believe that these memories are real. And I don’t want to discredit that. But we can try to find answers in different ways, you don’t have to see your father for this. Please, let’s try to find a separate way together.”

  
  


Hope looks at her mother in disbelief and shakes her head. “I need answers. And there are only three people in this world who can provide the answers that I need. A convicted serial killer who happens to be my father, you, and—” She hesitates a bit before continuing. “Aurora.”

A pause. This is the auburn-haired woman’s chance to finally get the answers she needs.

  
  


“What were you and Aurora talking about the day you were at the Saltzman Tower for the charity event or party, whatever it was that they were hosting? I deserve to know the truth, mom. You told me that you never wanted contact with her again after the way that she’s treated me because I called the police. Guess I’m not the only one breaking promises.” Now there’s the Hope Mikaelson that we all know and love, finally getting all the answers she needs in under 24 hours, or is she?

  
  


Hayley extends her left hand towards the counter and looks downward. “I have no interest in revisiting the past. And for the sake of your mental health, neither should you.” She sighs. “Aurora and I were just conducting a business deal, it had nothing to do with you and your work with the NYPD. She wants to find a charity to work with, I offered her contacts that have worked with me in the past. That’s all.” Lies. So many lies.

Hope is angry. So angry. She laughs. “My mental health is just fine. And I know you’re lying to me. You’re lying to a  _ profiler _ , mother, do you really think I can’t tell? Especially since you’re one of the women who has raised me for the past 32 years. I know you well enough.”

Hayley looks away and begins to grab her purse. “I want a new set of keys by tomorrow.” She starts to walk away. She turns around, walking backwards now. “Do you hear me? Tomorrow.” She turns back around and heads out the front door.

Hope watches her mother leave, panic written all over her face.

* * *

Hope Mikaelson finally sees a therapist. It was about time she did anyway. She goes to see her childhood psychologist, Dr. Davina Claire.

She’s sat down in a tiny chair. Of course, Dr. Claire specializes in children’s psychology. But that doesn’t matter to Hope, she’s not going to see a new therapist, she can’t trust someone new for anything related to her serial killer father.

  
  


“My mental health is deteriorating. It’s eroding, maybe past the point of no repair. It’s…. It’s not good.”

  
  


“Your hyperbole remains as vibrant as it was at 11 years old.” She remains to stare at Hope and smiling.

  
  


Davina Claire. Psychologist. The best of the best in children’s psychology of New York City. From New Orleans’ French Quarter to The Big Apple in New York City, moving was a big change for this woman when she was in her late 20s, but it was the best decision she’s ever made. A woman with elegance, posture, intelligence, and the utmost sophistication.

  
  


“Which is why you still agree to shrink me.” They laugh.

  
  


“I still shrink you because you tend to barge in unannounced and because you’ve made it very clear that you have no intention of seeing a therapist more appropriate to your age group.”

  
  


Hope looks around the room. She moves her hands around a lot and motions to the lollipops. “Well, they don’t have free lollipops.”

  
  


“Uh-huh.” Dr. Claire laughs.

  
  


Hope looks down at the floor, slightly nervous to speak. “Um… What’s your professional opinion on repressed memory?”

  
  


“Is this about your nightmares?” She pauses to stare at her, to which Hope stares right back, without answering. “The girl in the box?” Hope stares at her, images of the girl in the box flooding her mind; from her hands, to her bruised body. “I know why they never found her, Dr. Claire. My father? I think he drugged me. With chloroform… Or a similar sedative for… I don’t know how long.”

  
  


“Chloroform? Is that hyperbole?”

  
  


Hope continues to look at the ground. “I’m not sure. In trademark fashion, Klaus has chosen to dance around the truth. Which shouldn't be surprising to anyone. But it really upsets me.”

Dr. Claire looks at Hope intently, a fierce expression all over her face. “You’ve been seeing your father?”

Hope looks up at her psychologist, unable to come up with an answer to respond back.

  
  


“In order to preserve any hope of overcoming your PTSD, I would recommend staying away from Klaus Mikaelson as far away as humanly possible.”

  
  


Just then, Hope’s phone rings. She grabs it and looks at the message closely. “Sorry, Dr. Claire, I have to go. Police business.”

Hope gets up from her chair and heads towards the lollipops, grabbing a whole bunch. She wants to give one to each member of the team, especially Josie and Penelope. Josie. Josie. Josie. She shakes her head.

  
  


“Police? We haven’t even discussed why you were dismissed by the FBI.”

  
  


Hope grabs one lollipop specifically and laughs. “Root beer. This day just keeps getting better and better. I love root beer!” She turns towards the door and leaves.

Dr. Claire looks as she leaves, too worried about what’s going to happen next.

* * *

The scene of the crime was a forest, very similar to the forest she was in with the local county police officers of Tennessee. The NYPD and forensics teams have been on the scene for a while now, the whole place is barricaded, only people on a checklist can come and go as they please. Hope Mikaelson walks in with three lollipops in hand, in a grey suit with a black skinny fit Polo Ralph Lauren polo shirt underneath. Talk about big money. In front of the dead body are Josie and MG, with a forensics photographer on their left-hand side. On the left-hand side of the photographer is Stefan. Penelope is examining the body of a woman laid out on a fallen tree. Her eyes are completely white. Penelope stays looking over the woman until Hope arrives next to all of them.

Upon arriving next to the group, Hope pulls out two more lollipops.

  
  


“For you, Stefan.” She gives the lollipop to him, who takes it happily.

  
  


“And for you.” She hands one to MG, a bit reluctantly. He looks at the lollipop and snatches it out of her hand.

  
  


She looks down at her hand. The first original three lollipops she had in her hand. She grabs one and hands it to Josie, with a smile on her face. “And for you, a lemon-lime.” Josie takes it, smiling as well.

Hope turns away from her and claps, for no apparent reason other than to try and calm down because her gay panic is out and about again. She begins to look at Stefan, who tells her about the dead woman.

  
  


“Professor Sophie Deveraux. Big shot at the university with a lot of letters after her name.”

  
  


“Check out her eyes,” Josie interjects, ever so calmly as if her eyes are the most normal phenomena to happen on this day.

  
  


Hope walks closer towards Deveraux and looks at her curiously, kneeling down next to Penelope. “Huh. In the, uh, early 19th century, experimental lobotomies produced a very similar side effect.”

Penelope, who was still in her position, and very nervous, spoke up then. “Uh, well, it indicated damage to the optic nerve.” Hope’s eyes lit up and she remembered she had a lollipop for the raven-haired woman. “There may be damage to the brain as well.” She also gets up, but stays looking downward and crosses her hands behind her back. “Uh, Ms. Marshall, good morning.”

Hope extends her arms toward her. “Cherry?” She looks at her with a smile on her face, which makes Josie jealous instantly. Penelope smiles right back, knowing that the brunette would indeed be jealous. “It’s my favorite. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that we were exchanging small gifts. I’m unprepared. I could go grab something.” Hope chuckles, trying to hide her cringe over the name “Marshall.”

Stefan, realizing the tension in the area, walks over to Penelope. He motions for her to continue talking. “Cause of death?”

She looks at him, firmly. “I’m still working on it. The only indications that I can currently see are minor abrasions on her wrist and ankles.” Indeed, the woman did have abrasions on her wrists. They were scars now, extremely red.

Hope is back to looking at Deveraux’s body. “Indicating she was bound during the act. That, plus the lethal internal injury, means that what the killer did took time.” As she spoke, a forensic pathologist approached Sophie Deveraux’s body and began to unbutton her shirt. Josie walks near Penelope and Hope now, arms crossed. “Another location, someplace more secure, then they dumped the victim here.” Josie is so pissed at Hope and Penelope talking, for absolutely no reason other than the fact that they’re close to one another.

As the theories were floating out of their mouths into the area, the forensic pathologist motions to them that there’s a piece of paper on a safety pin that’s attached to Sophie’s body. Stefan notices that it’s a letter. “Detectives, it seems like we’ve finally found something.”

Hope looks curiously at the letter and the area of skin around the safety pin. The skin is basically non-existent, completely torn off. Only muscle is there now. “Let’s find out why.”

Meanwhile, outside of the forest, on the street next to it, Nik Mikaelson is reporting live.

“ _ We’re in Riverside Park, above 123rd street, where at 7:00 this morning, police found the body of Dr. Sophie Deveraux. At this time, the NYPD refuses to comment on any possible suspects, but we will remain on scene pending further information on the case. _ ”

  
  


Nik Mikaelson was reporting live, and his uncle, Klaus Mikaelson, was watching him, along with Damon Salvatore. Two criminals, watching the news on murder. How fitting.

Back at the scene, the note is now in a plastic see-through bag. Stefan holds the note and reads it out loud.

  
  


“ _ Dear Policemen, _

_ It turned black when they came. They said truth. Do wildflowers grow there? I saw them. Tell them I saw them. Tell them it’s all black now. _ ”

  
  


He puts the note down and looks at Hope, then looks at MG and Josie. MG interjects first. “Glad that they cleared that up.”

Hope gets closer to him. “Well, look at the.. Alternate slant in the writing, the scattered embellishments, the lack of consistency.”

Josie looks at her. “Nothing here makes any sense.”

  
  


“Well, to them it does. We’re looking at a serious mental illness.”  Hope looks at Josie, for a second too long, but it gives her enough time to look at her. She looked so beautiful today, more beautiful than usual. With her black jacket over her blue shirt and her hair tied back, Josie Parker was a spectacle to behold and cherish. But in her mind, the brunette is unattainable, someone who will never want her the way she wants her. Josie Parker is meant to be admired from far away, just like a Baroque painting. No, more specific than that. A Caravaggio painting. Nothing more, nothing less. If only she could at least kiss her once—

  
  


Did she really think that?

Stefan comes up with an idea. “This could be one of Deveraux’s former patients.”

Hope looks at the letter again. “Possibly.” She begins to walk away from the group, profiling the killer, imagining herself in the scene. Stefan, MG, and Josie are all paying attention to her. “But this points to a pure, perhaps progressive psychotic break. Guided by delusions… or hallucinations. We may be after a visionary killer. They often convince themselves they’re acting on behalf of a higher power or a dissociative voice. God… or the Devil.” She looks up at the sky.

While Hope was talking, Penelope was once again analyzing and examining Sophie Deveraux’s body. “Well, Marshall was right.” Hope walks and stands next to her, while Josie crosses her hands behind her back, pursed lips and all. Both Stefan and MG stay a little farther behind. “This is more than damage to the optic nerve. This incision goes around her entire head. Most likely a cranial saw, quarter-inch depth.”

She touches Sophie’s head around the entire incision. “The killer cut clean through this woman’s skull.” As she pulls back on the incision, she sees that the killer made a circle cut around the skill andㅡ

The whole group winces and looks away. Well, the whole group except for Hope and Penelope, who are looking with fascination at the work of the killer.

Josie clears her throat. “You don’t see that every day.” She points at what the killer did.

Hope, with fascination shown all over her voice and face, crouches down next to Penelope and examines it for herself. “Took the whole brain…”

Stefan, who is also crouched down from his distance, looks over at Hope questioningly. “What does that mean?”

Both Penelope and Hope look at the inside of Sophie Deveraux’s empty skull. Hope chuckles nervously. “I have absolutely no idea.”

They look at each other and smile. Josie Parker is shooting daggers at Penelope Park.

**End of Part 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed that chapter! also, if you like fairy tales and mythology stories, go read my other au! chapter 10 is coming out in a few hours :)
> 
> follow me on twitter: @k3ytoev3rything


	10. Fear Response - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, as promised, here's chapter 10 hehe.
> 
> tw / mentions of self-harm through bondage, blood, mental health issues throughout, drugs, drugging, mentions of suicide, family conflict

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Fear Response Part 2**

Back at the precinct, Penelope is talking to Stefan, MG, and Hope. A table separates them from each other inside the case room, so Stefan, MG, and Hope are on one side, and Penelope is on the other.

  
  


“The victim’s brain was surgically removed.” She holds her cherry lollipop and twirls it. “You’re looking for someone with at least a basic understanding of cranial anatomy.” She puts the lollipop back in her mouth.

  
  


As Penelope talks, Stefan and Hope are looking at the autopsy report. The raven-haired woman takes advantage of the fact that Josie is nowhere to be found. She looks at Hope. “This is delicious, by the way.” She twirls her lollipop again and smirks at Hope.

Hope is completely enthralled with the autopsy report to care too much about Penelope flirting with her, but she smiles at her regardless. Penelope puts the lollipop back in her mouth and focuses elsewhere, realizing that Hope has no interest in her, at least for the moment, in her eyes.

MG looks at everyone in the room and then focuses on Penelope. “So, the cause of death is… No brain?”

Penelope removes the lollipop and begins. “Oh, mercifully for her, no. Sudden cardiac arrest.”

Everyone is looking at her now. Hope has one paper lifted with her right hand and another close to her abdomen with her left hand. “She died of a heart attack?”

  
  


“A heart attack is a result of coronary artery blockage. Our victim’s heart was healthy, even exceptionally low risk for her age.”

Hope stops paying attention to Penelope and looks at the photographs of Sophie Deveraux’s hands and wrists. Even her hands are filled with scars from some sort of bondage. Or, maybe not bondage, perhaps even her fingernails that had dug into her skin, which was a product of her being tied up.

Stefan had his hands on the table, while looking up at Penelope. “Something else caused the heart attack to happen, then.”

Hope continues to look at the photograph and lays out her theory. “Her fists were clenched. Tight enough and long enough that her fingernails cut into her palms. Almost like Sophie Deveraux was scared to death.” She imagines the woman’s wrists, tied up, her fingernails digging in so hard that her hand bleeds profusely.

Penelope looks at the profiler and chuckles. “It’s fascinating how it becomes, um... It’s elegant, really, the evolution of your hypothesis because it starts with something—”

  
  


“Penelope,” Stefan warns her.

  
  


Penelope twirls her lollipop again. “Eh, welcome to the team.” She leaves the case room.

Stefan grabs some photos that came with the autopsy report and laid them out in front of Hope. “Why go through the trouble of removing the brain post mortem?” He taps the picture on the table gently.

Hope looks at the picture carefully. “To them, removing the brain fills some sort of psychological need. It’s my job now to figure out what that need is.” She then looks at Stefan and sighs.

Just then, Josie comes into the room, and all Hope can focus on is her. “Deveraux is a widower. Her neighbors saw her leave her home at 9:00 PM and never return again.”

She purses her lips and looks at Hope carefully. “She was on sabbatical leave, but her psych lab is still running at the university under her research partners, her sister, Jane-Anne Deveraux, and a man by the name of Marcel Gerard.”

Hope looks at the detective wide-eyed. “Marcel Gerard?”

Everyone looks at Hope.

  
  


“He’s a legend.” She looks at Stefan. Josie looks away and speaks softly. “Okay.” MG looks at Hope suspiciously.

  
  


“I studied his research. At Quantico.”

  
  


At that moment, an officer came into the room. “Ms. Marshall? I got your doctor on the phone.”

Everyone once again looks at Hope, Josie is focusing on her so intensely. Hope, however, is wondering what the fuck she’s gonna say, because she knows exactly who this phone call is from. Her brain keeps screaming, “ **_Mikaelson is your downfall, Marshall is your lifeline_ ** .” Josie may be looking at her intensely, but it’s Stefan who looks at her quizzically.

  
  


“Oh, right.” She heads out towards the door of the case room, but before she leaves, she turns back. “It’s uh, my dentist. You know, bad gums and all.”

  
  


She continues to head out the case room towards a desk near it. She grabs the phone angrily and speaks into it. “You know, I’m getting real tired of these phone privileges.” She stares at the computer screen on the desk furiously.

Through the phone, Klaus’ voice echoes. “Did they take the brain?”

Back at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, Klaus Mikaelson is sitting in his chair, one leg crossed over the other and looking right at the phone they gave him. He points at it, as if Hope was there in the room with him. “I saw you on television. You and your cousin. Aw. I mean, local news remains amateurish, but I think he has real chops. Don’t you?” He looks at Damon and gives him his signature smile. “Could you mute that, please? I’m on the phone with my daughter,” to which Damon looked at him and mouthed “fuck you.”

He stands up from his chair. “Now, tell me all about Sophie Deveraux’s brain.”

In the precinct, Hope is less angry, and she’s looking at the desk in front of her, panicking, hoping no one can hear the phone call. “That’s police business.”

Klaus is walking back and forth. “Oh, even a layman can get there. An incision along the circumference of the skull? A skull belonging to Dr. Marcel Gerard’s colleague?”

Hope’s brain sets into motion. “You think they’re trying to send a message?”

Klaus stops walking back and forth, looking at the phone. “Are you asking me for advice?”

The profiler purses her lips and looks at the computer again, moving her hand around, thinking of something to say. “No.”

Klaus then walks back towards his chair, pointing towards the phone again. “Uh, you remember our examination of Dr. Gerard’s theories?”

It comes out as a whisper. “I do.”

He starts to walk back and forth again. “The brain is the arbiter of the human fear response. Fear can be both motivating and debilitating. I’m guessing, in the case of our killer, it’s the latter.”

She scoffs. “This is not  _ our case _ .”

  
  


“When both my daughter and my nephew have an interest in something, it’s only natural for me to want to participate. Please tell your cousin his diction is – mmm! – impeccable.”

  
  


Hope looks anywhere but the computer. Tears are threatening to come out of her eyes. “Goodbye, Dr. Mikaelson.”

  
  


“Ah, uh, one more thing. This case may prove to be difficult for you, Hope. Well, fear has always been your particular stumbling block.”

  
  


She gets angrier by the second, again. “I catch killers for a living.”

  
  


“Still…. Your nightmares, that tremor. You’ve always been good at suppressing fear, pretending it’s not there.”

  
  


“But it is. Because of you.”

  
  


“Oh, here we go again with the blame game. Uh, why don’t you swing by?” He sits on his chair. “You know, you seemed… Troubled.. At our last visit. So many unanswered questions.”

  
  


She grips on the phone tighter. “I have no intention of returning.”

  
  


“Very well. But do tell Marcel that his work helped inspire me to uh….”

  
  


Silence.

  
  


“.... resist convention.”

  
  


She hangs up. Immediately, her hand begins to tremble. She grabs her hand and puts both of them into fists. Unbeknownst to Hope, Stefan is watching her every move, analyzing her.

* * *

At Dr. Sophie Deveraux’s psych lab, there are computers all around, with people in front of them, looking at images and wearing meditation headsets. 

Josie and Hope are together, doing this mission alone. The ride over was less awkward than the one to Elena’s house, but still somewhat uncomfortable. Right now, they stand before Jane-Anne Deveraux, who is completely wrecked. “We’re both devastated. This has been a terrible tragedy for the community.”

Josie looks down and then at Jane-Anne once again. “Do you know anyone who could have wanted to harm your sister?”

Meanwhile, Hope is next to Josie, and to avoid looking at her, she starts to look around the psych lab.

Marcel Gerard walks into the room. “Participant number 3 is distracted. Swap out her protocol.” Jane-Anne leaves to head towards a group of computers behind them. “Detective,” he turns and faces Hope and Josie. “I have built a career out of examining the human mind. If I had observed someone who was psychologically capable of that kind of sadism, they would already be in your custody.”

He pauses for a minute. “I’m Dr. Marcel Gerard.”

  
  


“Detective Parker.”

“Hope Mi−Marshall, consulting profiler.”

  
  


He shakes hands with both of them. It’s then that he notices the auburn-haired woman held a book in her hands. “Is that my book?”

Hope is ecstatic. “Uh, yes, I’m a big fan of yours.”

Josie ignores her. “Dr. Gerard, we’ll need Dr. Deveraux’s class rosters, access to her files.”

  
  


“Of course.”

  
  


“Would you mind signing it?” Hope hands him the book, to which Marcel looks at Hope questioningly. He grabs the book, but motions that he doesn’t have a pen.

  
  


“Oh my god, he doesn’t have a pen.” She turns to Josie, who is already annoyed with her at this point. “Do you have a pen?”

  
  


Josie gives her the pen and rolls her eyes. The profiler provides Dr. Gerard the pen, and he begins to sign the book.

  
  


“Have there been any recent incidents in the department? Any firings? On-campus dramas?”

  
  


“No, none.”

  
  


Jane-Anne was observant of the conversation. “April Young.” They all look at her now, except for Dr. Gerard, who is suddenly upset. “She was a graduate student. She committed suicide three months ago. Sophie’s sabbatical, in reality, was a mental health leave. She-She blamed herself.”

Josie faces Dr. Gerard. “Did Dr. Deveraux and April have a relationship?”

He looks at her, disgusted. “Not at all, and I resent the salacious implication. April was troubled. She succumbed to the pressures of doctoral pursuit. I fail to see a connection here.”

He hands Hope the book. Hope is observing him, thinking of the words he’s said. What if he’s the killer?

* * *

Nik Mikaelson is out on the sidewalk, in his best suit ever, texting somebody, when a car pops up next to him and rolls the windows.

Inside the car were Freya Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, and Hayley Marshall, driven by Chad. Freya looks at her son and motions at him.

  
  


“Hard at work, I see.”

  
  


Nik jolts in place, turns around, and faces the car. “How did you..?”

Freya and Hayley get out of the car, while Rebekah stays inside, talking with Chad. Freya and Hayley’s conversation that they were going to have with Nik was important, but it was a conversation that still wounded her. It was best that the two women did it without her.

Freya spoke up first. “Those insistent reports of yours are often live, dear. All of New York knows you’re here. Or maybe not all of New York, it depends on your ratings, I guess.”

Nik rolls his eyes. “Mom, stop sugarcoating the conversation. You know my ratings are bad. What are you here for?”

Now Freya and Hayley are standing in front of him. “Never lie to either one of us again.”

Hayley interjected. “You know that Hope is seeing her father. And you hid it from all of us.”

Nik crosses his arms. “I can’t get through a family dinner without covering for anyone of you in this family.”

The women looked at each other, then Freya spoke again. “Well, we need you to tell her to stop.”

  
  


“I’m tired of being in the middle. Why don’t you tell her yourselves?”

  
  


He begins to walk away, but Hayley grabs his arm. “I already tried. And I’m worried. You know what this will do to her.”

Nik turns around, anger written all over his face. “No, I don’t. You want to know why? Because I don’t remember my uncle. You both forbade me ever to get to know him, know of him, see any pictures of him. Anything that had to do with Klaus Mikaelson, you two hid everything from me.”

Hayley was still holding on to his arm, wide-eyed, not knowing what to respond. Freya walks over to them, shocked, but she was able to aid her. “We were trying to protect you, I was trying to protect you from the horrors of my brother.”

  
  


“You did, but you also taught me to be ashamed of who I am.”

  
  


That hurt Freya. Big time.

  
  


“I never knew Klaus Mikaelson, but I easily felt ashamed of being a Mikaelson. And trust me, I know I’m not the only one who did. I know that Hope pretended to have your last name,” he points at Hayley. “For  _ YEARS _ , and she would tell herself consistently that Marshall was her lifeline, Mikaelson was her downfall. And I kept trying to hide my last name everywhere, because everywhere I went, everyone asked me about my uncle, to everyone’s surprise, that I knew jack shit about the guy.” He looks at Freya now, specifically. “I opted to do the same thing as Hope at one point. I picked up the Malraux name. I was suddenly Nik Malraux, and everything was perfect. You two did this to us. You two. At least Hope remembers him, for better or for worse. When it came to me? I only knew what you two wanted me to know.”

  
  


Freya, extremely upset, closed the space between herself and her son. “Tell me, Nik. Do you sleep at night?”

He scoffs. “What?”

  
  


“When you close your eyes and sleep, do you find peace?”

  
  


He stays dumbfounded.

Hayley interjects then. “Consider yourself lucky. Your cousin doesn’t know peace.”

Freya continues. “That peace is because of the choices that we made together, excluding your Uncle Elijah.”

They both turn around and begin to head back to the car. It’s Freya that stops momentarily and faces her son one more time. “You can thank me any time you’d like.”

The car left, Nik stays on the sidewalk, thinking of the entire conversation.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Josie puts up a picture of April Young on the case board. “April Young, Dr. Deveraux’s dead graduate student.” She turns around and faces Stefan. “There’s something there.”

Stefan stays puzzled, touching his chin. He faces Hope. “What do you think?”

Hope is standing next to Josie, who she can’t get out of her mind anymore at this point. It takes all of her strength to focus back on the case. “Uh, I think Dr. Gerard is lying.” She walks towards the table and puts the signed book on it. “Never meet your heroes.”

Just then, MG walks into the room. “I sniffed around the university’s admin building. They were all just as wild about Marcel Gerard as you are. But they dug up an anonymous complaint letter with some crazy theories on April’s suicide.” Hope looks away briefly, and looks up the moment that MG turns the letter towards them. “Handwriting look familiar to you all?”

Hope looks at the letter and grabs it from MG’s hands, analyzing every letter, every word, every corner possible. MG looks at Stefan and keeps going. “Whoever wrote it is accusing the psych department of some sorts of off-the-book experiments.”

Stefan thinks hard about this. “How off-the-book are we talking about?”

  
  


“Well, grad students were dosing themselves with LSD. April was tripping on acid when she did a header off the building.”

  
  


Hope has an analysis of this. “Uh, psychedelics impair fear and inhibition. Perhaps the professors were measuring the LSD’s effects on their responses. This is older than the writing we found at the crime scene. It’s inflammatory, but cogent, indicating a continuing but severe decline in our killer’s mental state.” She puts the letter MG brought right next to photocopies of the letter they found at the crime scene.

  
  


“There’s something we’re missing. Some meaning in these words. They want us to understand them, to find them.”

  
  


Josie’s phone rings. “Detective Parker.”

  
  


“Detective, it’s Jane-Anne Deveraux.” Jane-Anne is walking through an empty classroom into a hallway. “There’s some things you should know. Circumstances I couldn’t discuss in front of Marcel.”

  
  


Josie looks at her team, who are talking amongst themselves, except for Hope, who is eyeing her with so much concern in her eyes. “Circumstances?”

Jane-Anne keeps walking down the hall. “The truth.”

“Dr. Deveraux, where are you?”

  
  


“The research building, ninth floor, but I−” She grabbed the coffee cup and drank some. Everything starts to get distorted.

  
  


“Dr. Deveraux? Dr. Deveraux, can you hear me?”

  
  


Silence.

  
  


“Dr. Deveraux, are you okay?”

  
  


Jane-Anne exhales. “I-I drank it. I’ve been dosed. It’s over.” She drops the coffee cup and coffee spills all over the place. When she looked to her left, a figure was standing by the door whence she came from.

  
  


“Dr. Deveraux?”

  
  


Josie hangs up the phone and looks at the team. They all knew then what they had to do next.

At the research building, a door opens to the stairs. MG and Josie walk in, guns raised, with Hope behind them, treading carefully. An alarm begins to ring, and MG cusses under his breath. “Security says someone triggered the roof alarm.” But they all keep going until they reach the rooftop.

Once there, MG and Josie continue to walk with their guns raised. A muffled voice is heard in the distance, a voice they assumed to be Jane-Anne. They walked to the voice source and saw, on the building’s right-hand side, Jane-Anne Deveraux tied up with duct tape, followed by surgical instruments behind her. Hope moves past MG and Josie.

  
  


“They’re still here.”

  
  


At that moment, everyone and everything moved in fast motion. Hope grabbed a pocket knife and began to cut the duct tape, while MG and Josie went after the killer. “Police! Come out with your hands up!”

Hope manages to liberate Dr. Deveraux and tells her that she’s safe. But Jane-Anne can’t stop muttering random words and mumbling.

  
  


“Do you see it? Do you see it? Do you see how high? I have to fight!”

  
  


Meanwhile, MG and Josie have had no luck finding the killer. They’ve searched all over and are now going up against some stairs that lead to pipes. They then decided to split up, Josie going to the left and MG towards the right.

Jane-Anne keeps mumbling and uttering random sentences. Hope tries her best to calm her down, but of course, something wild and chaotic always happens to Hope.

This time, it was the opposite.

  
  


“Oh, please! Please! Please!”

  
  


“You’re high on LSD.” Hope holds her hands up and motions them downward in the hopes that she calms down the psychiatrist. “In large enough doses, it can cause a psychotic break.”

  
  


“Who’s done this to you, Jane-Anne?”

  
  


“The universe! The universe! The universe is doing this to me. It wants me….”

  
  


Hope begins to frantically look around in aspiration that Josie or MG has caught the killer, but she’s also anxious about Josie. She can’t see Josie get hurt. She  _ won’t  _ let Josie get hurt. But, turning her back on Jane-Anne was the worst mistake that she could have ever made. Just then, the psychiatrist grabs the pocket knife that Hope hadn’t noticed she put down, grabbed her from behind, and held the pocket knife to her throat.

Josie hears Dr. Deveraux and rushes towards her with her gun raised. Dr. Deveraux, however, has been walking backward, slowly but surely. Josie reaches them, and once again, worry settles in for her. She thinks this is always the same, that something horrible always happens to Hope.

Hope sees that she has her gun up. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot, she’s been dosed.”

Meanwhile, Jane-Anne keeps asking her who she is and who she’s working for, to which Hope answers nothing. What can you respond to an overdosed LSD person?

Josie walks closer and closer to them. “What can you do, Mikaelson?”

The auburn-haired woman grunts. “Not a whole hell of a lot.” She looks at the brunette eye-wide, Jane-Anne walking backward still, getting dangerously close to the edge of the roof. It seems like they’re going to fall off the top together.

  
  


“Oh, it’s what they want.” She’s choking Hope at this point. “I know, I know! We’re so high up! WE’RE SO HIGH UPー OH!”

  
  


Hope hit her in the stomach, thinking that she would land on the floor of the roof. But she didn’t. Jane-Anne falls backward, off the roof. Josie screams and runs towards the psychiatrist.

  
  


“Mikaelson!” She looks down and sees a very confused Jane-Anne looking up and holding her ribs. There was a separation between that portion of the roof and where she fell, which broke her inevitable fall downward to land splat on the sidewalk.

  
  


Josie lets out a sigh. “Did you know that was there to break her fall?” She can’t stop panting, either. Hope walks towards the edge again and chuckles, accidentally grabbing Josie’s hand and holding it firmly, making Josie gasp and gay panic. “Yeah, sure I did.”

* * *

Back at the precinct, Josie, MG, and Hope walk in through the front doors. MG motions to Josie. “What am I going to write in our report?”

  
  


“Uh, I don’t know? I like to summarize what happens.”

  
  


“Oh, I know exactly what to write! ‘Whack consultant pushes VIC off the roof,’ it’s perfect.”

  
  


Hope stops walking and gives MG a death stare. It wasn’t her fault, technically, right?

Stefan walks out of his office. “Marshall.” Hope is stuck with the grimacing and the overthinking once again.  **_“Marshall is your lifeline, Mikaelson is your downfall.”_ **

She stands in between Josie and MG, looks at both of them, and folds her hands in front of her, looking at Stefan. “Jane-Anne Deveraux isn’t lucid enough to make a statement, but she’s in stable condition. She fractured a rib in the fall.” He looks at her closely. “Is there something going on with you that I should know?”

She ignores Stefan, which is much easier to do, and decides to answer MG, which is also easy to do, considering the number of times she has to hold back her tongue with him. “Oh, hey, Martin, I think I have a pitch. Here goes, you ready? ‘Whack consultant detailed understanding of the human psyche led her to anticipate that until diazepam could be administered, physical pain might be the only thing to deliver the victim from her psychedelic experience.’ That sounds about right and more accurate.”

In comes Penelope with the tox screen report, super excited. “Marshall was─”

MG rudely interrupts her. “Oh, you just love saying it, don’t you?”

The raven-haired woman squeals, which makes MG roll his eyes and Josie wanting to die. “The tox screens came back positive. Jane-Anne Deveraux’s blood had extreme levels of lysergic acid diethylamide… LSD. More than 50 times the standard dose.”

Josie wasn’t even remotely shocked. “And our original victim, her sister?”

The last thing Penelope wanted to do was talk to Josie, but she answered the brunette most calmly and professionally. “About the same concentration. More than enough to induce extreme panic, fear, leading to cardiac arrest.”

Hope’s brain’s gears are working once again. It’s profiling time. “Those levels were no accident. Our killer doses their victims. That’s the M.O. To induce the fear that ultimately kills them. We’re looking for someone that was harmed by Dr. Gerard’s experiments. Someone who couldn’t outrun the fear.” She looks up, eyes wide in concentration for the profile. Josie looks at her in awe. God, Hope Mikaelson is so amazing when she gets so into her work, it hurts her heart. “That’s what removing the brain represents: the destruction of their own mind. These kills are mission-oriented. They want to rid the world of the people who did this to them.”

Stefan looks at his entire team. “We need to get to Marcel Gerard. Get over to his place now.”

* * *

At Marcel Gerard’s comfortable home, Josie, MG, and Hope were there, listening to him talk about April Young. Hope leaned against his desk diagonally from him, while Josie and MG stood in front of Dr. Gerard himself.

  
  


“April Young was experimenting with LSD at the time of her suicide.”

  
  


Josie looked at him and went for the kill. “On your orders?”

He looks at her, disgusted. “This isn’t 1963, Detective. No one ordered them to do anything.”

Hope didn’t like the way that he talked to the brunette. She stood from her position and got in front of Josie. “You’re lying, Dr. Gerard. You held your credentials and your authority over their heads. All of your students, including April Young.”

He looks at Hope Mikaelson questioningly. That anger… The extent of her range…. The way she’s willing to protect this detective over nothing… He knows it from  _ somewhere _ …

  
  


Josie steps away from the profiler slightly to look at Dr. Gerard in the eye. “How many of your students participated in these experiments?”

  
  


“Quite a few.”

  
  


Hope grabs a file that she was holding tightly and opens it to show the photographic evidence of the letter at the original crime scene. “Did any of them exhibit signs of latent psychosis?” He looks closely at the evidence in the file.

Upon not receiving a response from him, Hope gives him a full profile that she’s come up within the last couple of hours. “We’re looking for a woman in her late 30s. Likely caucasian. The increasing hyperkinetic abnormalities in her handwriting suggest a progression in her mental illness. She may have appeared socially immature. A notable decline in hygiene. Drop in grades. Situationally incongruent emotions.”

Meanwhile, Marcel is studying closely and carefully over and over in his mind what Hope is saying. Everything she’s saying boils down to one person.

  
  


“Vicki.”

  
  


He gets up and heads towards his desk. MG, who has been the quietest, has been the one to observe him the most, surprisingly. He speaks up. “We’re gonna need a full name.” 

  
  


“Vicki Donovan. Former doctoral student.” He has a file in his hands, ready to give out.

  
  


Josie looks over to Hope and rolls her eyes before addressing Marcel. “When did she finish her degree?”

MG looked at him with anger in his eyes. “Let me guess, she succumbed to the pressures of doctoral pursuit?”

  
  


“Hundreds of students submitted to protocol with no side effects.”

  
  


Hope focused her attention on Marcel then. “But Vicki was the outlier. With her, the drug triggered intractable paranoid schizophrenia. Your experiment? It was the trip that never ended. Then she learned of April Young’s suicide, and that’s when she decided to take her revenge.”

* * *

At the precinct, two women dressed in the best clothing from New York City are walking to Stefan Salvatore’s office, where he is working thoroughly on papers from the current case. They knock on the door, but the dark-haired man is so engrossed in his work, that he doesn’t hear them. One of the women looks inside the office and notices that he’s in, so she motions for the other to open the door.

In walk Hayley Marshall and Aurora de Martel. Upon seeing both women, Stefan stands up and looks at both of them several times, baffled that they’ve shown up to the precinct. “Hope isn’t here.”

Hayley moves forward, Aurora stays behind. “I’m so sorry. About Caroline.”

Stefan looks down at his desk and stays silent for what feels like forever. The red-haired woman looks between both of them and then sighs, deciding to sit down at one of the chairs in front of Stefan’s desk.

Stefan pays her no attention. Instead, he asks Hayley the most basic question. “What are you really here for, Hayley?”

  
  


“Well, for starters, trying to offer my condolences.”

  
  


“Yeah, well, you’re three years too late.”

  
  


Silence. Stefan looks down at his desk, tears threatening to come out of his eyes.

  
  


“Caroline loved Hope like a daughter.”

  
  


Hayley looked away. “I know that, and I’m thankful for that every single day. And no apology in the world could ever excuse the fact that I haven’t given my condolences till now. Believe it or not, I really do consider Caroline like another mother for Hope. Hope is so lucky, she had so many powerful women raise her. She always loved Caroline so much. And I know that she’s so lucky to have you like a father figure in her life.”

Stefan scoffs. “You’re saying all this because you don’t want Hope to work with me, aren’t you?”

She sighs loudly. “No. I don’t want my daughter to throw her life away doing some kind of penance for her father’s crimes.”

Silence.

She lets out another sigh. “It’s not because of you, Stefan. On the contrary. It has everything to do with the fact that she’s gone to see her father again. She’s only going to get worse if she keeps doing this and she only does it when working here.”

He stays looking at the dark-haired woman. “Hope is a grown woman.”

  
  


“And you are the grown man who befriended her. Swore to protect her. And then sent her back to the arms of my husband.” Aurora looks at him, bored out of her mind.

  
  


He scoffs. “I’m sorry, aren’t you the woman who treated her so awful after the arrest that all she can remember of you is those bad memories? Forgive me, but the last thing I’m doing is taking any advice from you. I know Hope way better than you do.”

Aurora rolls her eyes. Stefan sighs. “Regardless of your opinions,” he points to the red-haired woman, “I didn’t know that—”

Hayley interjects. “You had a case to close, Stefan. You knew more than anyone. You knew.”

Stefan was growing angry. “Yeah. Who sent her there in the first place?”

Hayley and Aurora looked at each other. The red-haired woman spoke first. “We had no choice, Hope worshipped her father. By sending her, we thought that if she could see how horrible and fucked up he is, that she would be disillusioned…”

Hayley took advantage of the fact that Aurora paused. “I was losing her. Or at least that’s what it felt like. I noticed after some time that she loves me so much and would do anything for me.” She chuckles, reminiscing on the happiest memories she has of her and her daughter together. “And she still looks at me the same way.”

  
  


“So, then why,” Stefan points at Aurora, “is she here?”

  
  


Aurora sighed. “I was wrong about so many things. I did so many things wrong. Help me fix it. That’s what Hayley is trying to do, but I fear that Hayley alone isn’t enough.”

Stefan laughs. “Aurora, you do realize she was 11, right? Oh wait, you must be talking about the fact that you treated her like absolute shit. You know she thinks that she’s the black sheep of the family because you told her that you ruined her life by calling the police, right?”

Aurora looks away, down to the floor. “Just please, help me fix all the wrong that I’ve done.”

He looks at her. “Hope Mikaelson does what Hope Mikaelson wants to do. We can’t control her.”

Hayley rolls her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

She turns away from him in anger, out his office, out the precinct, out into her car. Aurora looks at her walk away, and before she leaves along with her, she looks at Stefan one last time. “Give her some space.”

As she leaves, Stefan looks away, and all he can think about is the conversation.

* * *

Hayley Marshall and Aurora de Martel head back to the Mikaelson Townhouse. Hayley heads off to her own room, while Aurora heads to the guest room designated just for her. From the door, on the left hand side, is an array of shoes that all belong to her, not from any Mikaelson or Marshall. Right in front of her, she has a mirror with a vanity set that has all her creams on the table. She takes a bath and soon after, sits at the vanity set. She opens up a bottle of a cream and puts it around her face and neck.

As she’s putting on the cream, she remembers carefully the words Hayley spoke the day they went to visit Klaus:

  
  


“ _ After what you did, I will not be coming back here. _ ”

  
  


And her response:

  
  


“ _ And neither will I. _ ”

  
  


**_2022 - Sometime after_ **

_ “None of us will. Not Hope, not Nik, not even your siblings. Do you understand? Not ever.” _

  
  


_ As the two women got up, the buzzer sounded. But what stopped them was Klaus’ voice. _

  
  


_ “You’re right. We have been happy. You two, my dear Hayley and my sweet Aurora. You two got the very best of me.” He chuckles. “Well, so did Camille and Stefan, but let's not get into that, right?” _

_ The two women look at each other again and begin to walk away. _

  
  


_ “Wait, I have more to tell you.” _

  
  


_ The women turn around again. _

  
  


_ “The reason why is because... Men.. Have tendencies. Needs. And I did what I had to do in order to meet those needs, to keep me happy. And to keep you two happy, provide you two with the life you wanted. Of course, I also kept Stefan and Camille happy as well.” He laughs loudly. “But don’t fret, they were before you two, duh.” _

  
  


_ He looks at them intensely, with his signature smile. “The only person who knew what I was, naturally, was Elijah. But you two will be back. Make no mistake of it.” _

_ The two women look at each other once again and leave as quickly as possible. _

* * *

Aurora de Martel was dressed in her best dress suit and in her best makeup. She leaves her room and goes to knock on Hayley’s door. Once she sees that she’s also ready, they both gather their purses and go to see where Freya and Rebekah are.

Upon finding Freya and Rebekah adequately dressed, Hayley calls Chad.

  
  


“Chad, bring the car around.”

  
  


“Of course, Ms. Marshall. Where to on this day?”

  
  


A pause.

  
  


“Claremont Psychiatric Hospital.”

  
  


She hangs up the phone and looks at the three women beside her. They all look terrified, scared out of their minds.

It was time to see Klaus Mikaelson for the first time in about 20 years.

**End of Part 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this chapter! i hope you liked it :)
> 
> follow me on twitter: @k3ytoev3rything


	11. Fear Response - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! first of all, i want to thank you, the readers, for being patient with me. this semester is almost done and once it is, i'll be able to update more frequently. second of all, i want to thank you for sticking around and reading this fic. this is like a baby to me, so it means a lot to see your comments, your kudos, etc. lastly, i hope you enjoy this chapter and i'll try my best to have the next one uploaded as soon as i can!
> 
> happy halloween, everyone :)
> 
> tw / graphic depictions of stabbing, blood, graphic depiction of stabbing, drugs, adult-to-child possible violence

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Fear Response Part 3**

In the distance, a dog is barking quite loudly.

MG is walking from Dr. Gerard’s house to the car, where Hope is sitting and waiting for him to come back, looking at him intently. The moment he opens the door, she turns to face him. He gets in the car and closes the door.

  
  


“Marcel is turning in after a cup of chamomile. Josie and Stefan are closing in on Vicki Donovan. He wants me to stay on the case with you with Professor Bad Trip over here.”

  
  


Hope looks at him and nods. MG turns to face the auburn-haired woman. “If you want though, you can go home. No ones gonna stop you.”

In truth, Hope would scoff at him, but she’s trying not to be hostile at the moment. “What does it stand for? MG.”

MG looks away, staring downward. “Is it Michael? Martin? Maverick?” She snaps her fingers and gasps. “Maxwell.”

  
  


“I’m not sure you’re stakeout material.”

  
  


She laughs. “I’m a chronic insomniac.” She turns and focuses on Marcel’s house. “I was born for this.”

MG looks at the house himself. “How many kids' brains do you gotta scramble to get one of those?”

Hope looks at him questioningly. “Sorry, I know he’s one of your people.” He says that end with disgust in his voice.

She scoffs this time around. “No, you’re my people. Yes, I studied psychology and I use it all the time in cases, but profiling is all about police work.”

He keeps looking at her, without uttering a single word. She crosses her arms. “Tell me why I’m wrong.”

  
  


“Well, in the service, we have a hierarchy.” He’s focusing on the empty street in front of him, avoiding looking her in the eyes. “Your rank demands a certain amount of respect. Cops are the same. I have a badge. I have a title, and you don’t even dare to respect me.”

  
  


He looks her firmly in the eyes. She looks away, his gaze is too intense and she’s beginning to shake. “When I was a little girl, a cop came to my house. He put cuffs on a bad guy and took him away. That cop saved my life. I owe him my life. He’s everything to me. He’s who I respect, not the force he works for.” She then turns to him once again. “We started off on the wrong foot, I think it’s time we tried to mend that as best as we could.”

Neither of them talks. Hope looks away, giving up on the conversation. She looks at Marcel’s house and sighs. “I need to talk to Dr. Gerard one more time, see if there’s any way he could give me some more information that would help complete my profile.”

She walks over to the house in silence, while MG thought of every word she said over and over in his mind.

Inside the house, Hope and Marcel are sitting one in front of the other. Marcel is observing her, finally realizing why there’s something so familiar.

  
  


“Your case is a real testament to the mind’s capacity to endure trauma.”

  
  


Hope pauses on what Marcel said, thinking briefly of her response. “I know that the existence of repressed memory is a controversial subject─”

  
  


“I am all for controversy. I mean, who amongst us can qualify any condition of the mind as nonexistent?”

  
  


“I have been diagnosed with depression, generalized anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder–”

  
  


“All linked to fear.” He fixes his position in the chair. “And you have reason to believe that you were drugged during Klaus Mikaelson’s active periods?”

  
  


She nods her head.

  
  


“Have you ever smelled chloroform?”

  
  


“I mean, it’s not my drug of choice.”

  
  


“It has chemical notes, of course, but it’s almost sweet. Pleasant, really. Olfactory memories are very persistent. A familiar smell, especially when you have PTSD, can conjure an experience like nothing else.”

  
  


Every single word Marcel said, she thought with close precision, especially when he said her father’s name. She figures that that’s why her father told her on the phone that little tidbit about Marcel.

  
  


“Dr. Gerard, do you have any fears?”

  
  


She gets up from the chair and fixes her suit. She walks towards the masks behind the chair Marcel was sitting in. “I have… Regrets. Regrets, however, can have the power to turn into fears. If your memories are blocked, that means that it may be attached to something that your subconscious mind is afraid of. And the only way to access fear—”

The auburn-haired woman hears everything that Marcel says, but her attention right now is on one of the masks. “Is to face it.” She had her hands on the table, arched over and looking intently. “Where is this one from?” She stands straight once again.

  
  


“It’s African. It’s an artistic interpretation of Lucifer himself.”

  
  


Her eyes go wide. “I’ve seen this before.” She hurries over to where she was sitting to grab the folder with all the evidence on the case. She puts it on Marcel’s desk and flips through the file, until she gets to the photocopies of the letter. She looks at them and starts arranging.

  
  


“Has Vicki Donovan ever been here?”

  
  


She continues on with the placement. “Uh, yes. Many of my students have. She was… She was fascinated with my collection.”

Finally, Hope had finished with the sorting. The letter took the form of a mask with the way that Vicki Donovan wrote her words. The same mask that Hope had noticed. Hope’s brain is on overdrive. Everything is finally making sense. “She wants you to understand her. To find her.” She turns around and faces Marcel. “This is where she plans to kill you.”

Marcel touches his forehead. “Something’s wrong. My thoughts are shifting, my pulse is racing. It’s, it’s the tea, the chamomile.”

Hope picks up the mug he was drinking the tea from and looks inside. “You’ve been dosed with LSD.”

  
  


“The floor’s,” he starts to laugh uncontrollably. “The floor’s melting.”

  
  


Hope crouches over and looks him in the eye. “Focus, we have to get you out of here.”

Just then, the lights shut off all over the house. Hope gets up and looks around, thinking of what to do next. Marcel begins to mumble a whole bunch of things.

  
  


“Turn on…. Turn it on. T-Turn it on. It’s too quick, i-it’s too quick. T-Turn it on, let’s go back. I’m sorry, we have to go back.”

  
  


While he spoke, Hope took the time to go to the doors that were already closed to inspect everything outside of the office. She wasn’t able to see much. She saw a woman that she assumed to be Vicki Donovan looking up the stairs with a smirk on her face, while another woman was locking the door and then breaking the lock. There was no way that they could escape through the front door now.

She closes the door without making a single noise. She looks back and faces Marcel, wide-eyed. “There’s no turning back.”

Hope Mikaelson stared at death straight on and for once, she was ready to fight.

* * *

Outside, MG was on his phone, scrolling through social media. He takes a brief moment to look at the house and notices that everything was dark. He got scared then, he knew that Hope was all alone with Marcel, no weapons, nothing. He starts to get out of the car, grabbing his gun and heading straight for the house. He made a small promise to Josie today, he needs to make sure now to follow through.

Inside the house, Hope had made a phone call, ensuring herself to talk low so that no one could hear her. “MG, Vicki’s in here with another woman.”

  
  


“The front door’s locked. I’m gonna try and see if I can get in through the back.”

  
  


MG goes around the corner to try and get to the back door with his gun cocked and ready. Hope looks around the room and sees if there’s something that she could use to turn into a weapon. In no time at all, she spots the fireplace sticks and grabs one. Meanwhile, Marcel has not stopped mentioning to turn on the lights. She realizes that she only has one choice to make, and she takes it.

  
  


“Stay here.”

  
  


Fireplace stick in hand, ready to hit anything coming her way, Hope heads for the doors and opens them.

  
  


“The walls are breathing. Oh my god, the walls are breathing. Fuck, let’s go back”

  
  


The auburn-haired woman closes the doors behind her, once again making sure that she was not making a single noise. She’s on a case, she needs to make sure that the victim stays protected.

From somewhere, music begins to play and it startles Hope. She begins to walk and try to find the source of the music. Where the music player was, either of them had to be there, right?

  
  


“Vicki Donovan!”

  
  


She kept walking, holding the fireplace stick like a bat. “No one else needs to die.”

From outside, MG is at the back door. He’s trying to open the door until he realizes that the door is blocked by a refrigerator.

Hope is now at the edge of the stairs. “I know how you feel. I’ve had my share of nightmares.” Nightmares that come flooding through her mind: the girl in the box, her father drugging her… “But they trapped you inside yours, didn’t they?”

She’s walking slowly but surely. Instead of heading for the stairs, she goes for a hall next to them. “I can help you. It’s not too late.”

She prepares herself to lunge at Vicki, but no one was there, which surprised her. She turns around and begins to walk back to head up the stairs. Meanwhile, MG is still trying to budge the door open, his efforts to get the fridge to unblock the door are not going great.

Hope starts to go up the stairs. “Vicki? I know you’re scared. I am, too.”

She walks up the stairs carefully. She begins to extend out her hand to open the door that’s at the top. But once she does, she’s met with a force that pushes her backwards. She lands at the wall on the other side and hits a frame, completely breaking it. She groans, automatically touching the back of her head. Looking at her hand, she sees it. The blood.

Vicki Donovan came at her and tried to hurt her once more, but Hope raised the fireplace stick. Vicki kept hitting it until she realized that it was no use. She then went and grabbed the stick, pushing Hope backward. But Hope was slightly stronger and Vicki’s efforts were lost.

MG was finally able to budge the fridge away from the door, he walked inside the house. He began to hear the confrontation and headed straight towards the noise. Vicki tried to hit Hope once again but missed, as Hope swerved away from the punch. Vicki hit the wall instead, but quickly turned around and once again tried to hit her. It was no use. Hope grabbed her arms, twisted them, and threw her against the edge of the staircase rail. But Vicki was smart, too. She elbowed Hope and when Hope crouched from the pain, she then hit Hope’s forehead with the back of her head, sending her straight down to the floor.

Hope was groaning in pain. Vicki grabbed a knife and got on top of Hope. “This is my response to fear.” The moment that she was going to stab Hope, the auburn haired woman looked at her intently, eyes wide open, a gunshot hit Vicki right through her shoulder and she flew back. Hope quickly got up, ready to thank MG for the rescue.

But it wasn’t MG.

It was Marcel.

Marcel had a shotgun in his hands.

  
  


“Let’s go back, let’s go back. I killed him.” He said everything with such emotion that it shocked Hope. She’s looking at him eye-wide. “It’s me. The walls…. They’re breathing. And it is so…. It’s so black. Turn it on, I have to turn it on.”

  
  


“POLICE!” MG runs up towards Marcel and points at him with his gun, about to pull the trigger. Hope notices and panics.

  
  


“No! No, don’t shoot.” She turns to focus on Marcel. “You’re in the midst of a very intense psychedelic experience. But in the end, it’s still just a trip.” She has her hand extended, motioning to Marcel what he has to do. “You can’t outrun the fear, you have to move into it.”

  
  


Marcel begins to cry. “Oh, it’s too much. It’s too quick, I have to go back now.”

  
  


“The fear that you’re feeling right now ─ that’s real. Stop fighting it. You have to let the fear consume you, and the panic will subside.”

  
  


Marcel can’t stop crying. “You did this,” Hope points towards the dead body of Vicki Donovan. “And now, you have to live with yourself, with what you did.”

He grabs the shotgun harder and falls to the floor, crying. MG is still ready to shoot him in case he were to try and do anything to Hope. The promise, the promise.

  
  


“Great job with that speech, but he still needs to pay for all of his sins.”

  
  


Hope and MG look at the source of the voice. The other woman who came into the house with Vicki. Hope gets up. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman smiles. “Monique Deveraux. Rings a bell?”

Hope looks at her intently. “You’re related to Sophie and Jane-Anne.”

  
  


“Correct. I’m Jane-Anne’s daughter. And both Marcel, my aunt, and my mother have ruined the lives of countless students. They all need to pay.”

  
  


Every connection Hope needed was right in front of her. “So, you organized your own aunt’s death, almost killed your own mother, and almost killed Dr. Gerard in the process. And you utilized Vicki Donovan to make it seem like she’s the killer.” Hope nods and purses her lips. “Nice, pretty sadistic, but nice.”

Monique got mad. “No, I didn’t utilize Vicki. We were partners, in this together. She wanted them gone as much as I did. She meant everything to me. She was the one person that mattered, I would do anything to protect her.”

  
  


“...I know the feeling.”

  
  


_Josie_ . _Josie_ . _Josie_. Her mind kept ringing with her name over and over again. She shakes her head. “But what you two did was wrong. If you would’ve gone to the police, it would be your mom, your aunt, and Dr. Gerard dealing with the consequences of their actions, not you.” She didn’t even believe that line herself, but she had to say something.

Monique scoffs. “Yeah, right. Cops are all useless.”

MG was about to grab his handcuffs and arrest her when Marcel passed out from exhaustion. He grabs Marcel and Monique starts running. Hope had no strength to go after her, so she told MG to go after her instead and that she would take care of Dr. Gerard.

She watched intently as MG went after Monique, Josie not having left her mind one minute.

* * *

Damon Salvatore was walking with Freya Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall, and Aurora de Martel to Klaus Mikaelson’s cell.

He tells the women to wait outside for a minute and unlocks the door, heading inside by himself.

  
  


“Hey, dickhead, you have visitors.”

  
  


Klaus puts the book he was reading down on his desk and shifts his chair around. Damon tells them all to come in, Hayley and Aurora coming in first. The women stand in a line all next to each other, looking at Klaus right in the eye, protruding all their anger out of their eyes, into their stares.

Klaus isn’t even surprised one bit. He knew that his family would one day succumb to the pressures of wanting to visit him, wanting to know if he had died. He just knew that the curiosity was too strong to avoid. And he was ready to give them a show.

He stands up and looks at all of them, giving them his signature smile. “You’re all looking great. Hayley, you simply age like fine wine.”

  
  


“Burn in hell.” She looks at him, her eyes throwing daggers for her, imagining him stabbed a thousand times, blood spewing out of him like Niagra Falls.

  
  


He laughs. “Always a gas. And you, Aurora, you said it yourself. You two wouldn’t be coming back here ever again, but look at you here. And my darling sisters, the ones who said they would never come to visit me. Look at you all here now. Swallowing your words whole.”

Rebekah interjected then. “Trust me, brother, none of us want to be here. Though, we do all prefer you on a leash.”

He cackles and looks at Aurora and Hayley. “Aren’t you two reaching an age where women… reach their hard-won sexual peak?”

  
  


“Don’t do this bullshit, Klaus. Not today, not ever.” The red-haired woman walks a little closer, Hayley holding her back. “Hayley and I want you to stop seeing Hope.”

  
  


“Way to kill a mood. Since when did you ever care about her?”

  
  


Klaus knew that he would be hurting himself with this, he knew that answer. Since that day his daughter has called the police. That’s when Aurora de Martel stopped caring for the daughter that she never had.

  
  


“I never stopped, Klaus. Hayley knows that I haven’t. I had to pretend in front of you and in front of Hope that I didn’t care. I had to make you both think that I didn’t and now I’m trying to undo that mistake. I want a relationship with her again, to mend the pain.”

  
  


Klaus looks at her wide-eyed. He can’t believe what he’s hearing right now. But instead of saying anything…

  
  


“I’m surprised that she’s even mentioned anything about the visits.”

  
  


Hayley pulled back Aurora. “She didn’t have to say anything, I know my daughter well.”

Klaus sat back down in his chair. “Oh, well, that’s rather unfortunate. I was really enjoying our little visits. It was a secret. Our secret.”

Hayley tries to inhale as much air as possible. She feels like she’s suffocating from the lack of breathing that she’s currently experiencing around Klaus, because all she can think about is revenge.

  
  


“What do you want with her, Klaus?”

  
  


Klaus smiles. “What does any good father want, Hayley? A relationship.”

  
  


“You already ruined her childhood, the effects of it still last to this day. You can’t possibly want anything good from her. I know that for certain. Tell me the truth, Klaus. What do you want from her?”

  
  


“I did tell you the truth, I have no reason to lie.” He smiles again.

  
  


No response.

  
  


“By age three, a child’s brain has already reached peak development. Three-year-old Hope Mikaelson thought that her father was a kind, caring, law-abiding citizen. Forget about Hope for a minute, Hayley. Let’s talk about something else.”

  
  


“I won’t forget about her when I know that her serial killer father wants contact with her once again.”

  
  


Klaus smiles. “Hope’s going to be just fine. You and my sisters raised her well. I’m so proud of her.” He takes a moment to look at Freya and keeps on the smile. “And Nik, too. And I’m proud of all of you, for raising the kids, for being strong. It must have been so hard. Thank you.”

He extends his arms out and tries to touch Hayley and Aurora, but they both scream and flinch. Klaus isn’t even surprised.

  
  


“Don’t.. Don’t touch me. I am terrified of you. Even chained to a wall, _we_ are terrified of you. I am terrified… to look into your eyes and see the monster. The monster that you became the day that you were arrested. Or maybe you didn’t become that monster in that very moment, but perhaps you became the monster before that. But I was too blind to see it, because I was blindly in love with you. And I’m scared of what you as a monster could ever do to your family… My family.”

  
  


In truth, Aurora wasn’t just referring to Hayley. She was also referring to Freya and Rebekah as well. The women had pulled back also, making sure that they were okay, horrified themselves. And when she said “my family,” she didn't just refer to the de Martels but also the Mikaelsons. She thought of them as family as well. But everything that Aurora had said hurt Klaus. Hurt him so deeply he didn’t think he could have felt like this ever again.

He looks at all of them angrily. “Hope’s my family, too. And so is Nik. All of you are my family. And Elijah, my brother Elijah.” He speaks as though he misses Elijah terribly. He looks down briefly before looking up at Hayley. “I won’t let you separate me from my daughter. She’s my heir, I love her.”

Hayley hurriedly went up to Klaus, as much as she could from the red line, and spat in his face. “No, not today you won’t. You’re not going to play this card with me, Klaus Mikaelson. You can pretend to care about Hope any other day, in front of anyone else, but not in front of me. We lost you. You are dead to me because I had to kill you in my mind. We all had to kill you in our minds.”

Aurora put her hand briefly on Hayley’s shoulder and nodded her head. “I had to kill you in my mind because I loved you.” Her voice was angry, it was sad, and it was desperate to escape her throat for twenty years. “My mother warned me. You were basically penniless, you could never maintain my lifestyle. That you would hold me back. But she was wrong, my god, was she fucking wrong. We had everything. Everything, Klaus! And I did everything and anything to keep us together. Until I realized that keeping you around was going to hurt the family, hurt Hope. You’re a serial killer, Klaus. You killed so many innocent people, and you killed your own family. You ruined your family to pieces.”

Klaus looked at her carefully, observed her diligently. “Yes, we did have everything, didn’t we? And we were quite happy.”

  
  


“Oh, we were happy. Until everything was taken from me. Everything. Except for them.” She points towards Hayley, Freya, and Rebekah.

  
  


“And now you want my daughter. How can you do this to me, Klaus?”

  
  


Klaus raised his hand and screamed. “Don’t. Don’t do that, Hayley.” He starts to back away. “I was there. I know the whole story! What’s happening to her isn’t just about me.”

Klaus is furious and Hayley is crying. “You are breaking my daughter, Klaus. She is nearly broken and I am begging you. Leave Hope alone. Don’t take the only thing I have in this world.”

Klaus is looking past Hayley, past Aurora, and past his sisters. Everything beyond the red line in his cell was cursed at this point. But behind everyone was Hope Mikaelson, looking at her mother. “You really think I’m broken?”

Hayley turns around and gasps. She begins to look around everywhere, mouth open. “You know what, mom, maybe you’re right. You were just pretending to care this whole time when in reality, all you wanted was to prove yourself right. Just say it, mom, say it to my face. Say the truth, that I made your life miserable. Don’t sugar coat it. Maybe that little girl you miss so much would have been better off if she had never loved you at all.”

Hayley cries even more. “If you need me, I’ll be on the next plane out of your life.”

Freya and Rebekah gasp and scream out. “Hope, don’t!”

But it was too late. Hope had left already. Out the door, out to the parking lot, out to a taxi, back to the precinct.

* * *

At the precinct, Hope was in the case room, sitting there and doing nothing but thinking about her interaction with her mother.

That was, until Josie came in.

Josie opens the door and walks in, saying hi to Hope with a smile.

  
  


“Hey, Josie.” She can’t even form a smile, and she hopes that Josie doesn’t notice.

  
  


“I’m really glad that you’re okay. I, uh, sort of told MG to promise me that he would make sure you would be safe. I didn’t want to see you get hurt when I wasn’t there to make sure you were alright.”

  
  


Josie crosses her arms behind her back and moves her right foot front and back. She’s never admitted out loud like this how much she wants to keep Hope safe, not even to herself. Breaking all her rules, letting Hope know? This was new for her.

The problem is that Hope is upset. First, her mother thinks she’s broken and needs to be taken care of consistently, now Josie thinks the same? Not on her watch. She slams the table so hard, she almost breaks her hand.

  
  


“Why do you care? Why do you care so much, Josie? I am nothing to you.” She gets up and is merely inches away from Josie’s lips. “I am nothing to you. I am not a math problem that you think you can solve so easily. I am not your answer and you sure as fuck aren’t mine, Josie Parker. There is no this,” she flicks her index finger between the both of them. “This is nothing.”

  
  


She pushes Josie to get her point across. She gasps. “I am a bad person, I am a lie, I am a person fabricated out of deception, lies, and murder. I am worthless.”

She didn’t realize she was looking downward until she looked up and saw that Josie was scared. And Josie is genuinely scared shitless. She gasped again and tried to walk towards Josie, but the brunette took a step backward. “I-I-I’m sorry.” The tears are threatening to leave her eyes, pour down, and stain her face.

Josie puts her hand up. “It’s fine. I was the fool that thought you would care that someone looked out for you. I was there when you slept walk, I protected you then and you hugged me like your life was on the line, like it was the last time you would ever get a hug, any kind of affection. It was my mistake, not yours.”

She begins to walk away. “Josie, please.”

It was Josie’s mistake to look back. Those blue eyes. It was always the eyes. She stays frozen looking right at Hope. But then she walks towards Hope, standing inches away from her face once again. “Who pretended to care about you that now you hate it?”

Hope stares at her, knowing the answer she wants to give and not having the strength to give it back. She’s trying so hard to open her mouth, but she can’t and she won’t. So, she puts her hand behind Josie’s neck. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

She walks away from Josie and this time, it’s her turn to leave.

  
  


“I can’t forgive you, you know that, Hope Mikaelson?”

  
  


The auburn-haired woman turned around and stared at Josie questioningly. Josie hadn’t even dared to turn around. “You were supposed to be a side effect of the medication.”

  
  


“I’m not a hallucination.” She can’t keep her eyes off of Josie.

  
  


Josie laughs. “But you’re a pipe dream. And I swear, I’ll protect you. Give your back to me, and I promise I’ll keep you alive.”

Hope can’t answer. Can’t believe that Josie thinks of her the same way. A pipe dream. She scoffs. “You’re dangerous.”

This time, Josie does turn around. “And why’s that?”

  
  


“Cause you make me believe in the impossible. You make me believe that everything’s going to be okay. You’re the pipe dream. You’re the dream that haunts all the steps I could never take, because all those steps would break you to pieces.”

  
  


Josie stares at her wide-eyed. Hope left, the bravest one out of the both of them, the only one that broke the pull.

* * *

At her loft, Hope holds the bottle of chloroform. She makes the decision, and she opens the bottle, putting a few drops on her pillow. She sits down on her bed, not even putting on her restraints, letting herself smell the chloroform.

She drifts off immediately, and she’s once again ten years old.

_Young Hope Mikaelson was standing right in the basement, frozen in her steps, looking down at the box. The box._

_With each and every step, she gets closer and closer to the box. She’s debating whether or not to open it. And just when she’s about to, she hears her name._

  
  


_“Hope! What the hell are you doing? You know that your father’s and I’s things are off limits.”_

  
  


_It was her uncle Elijah, who grabbed her forcefully and held on to her arm grip tight._

  
  


_“I saw something, uncle Elijah. I saw a woman.”_

  
  


_Elijah stares at her, mouth wide open. “That doesn’t concern you, do you hear me?”_

_Young Hope Mikaelson is about to cry. “You’re hurting me, uncle Elijah.”_

  
  


_“I SAID DO YOU HEAR ME. Never speak of her again. You have no idea what either of us are capable of.”_

  
  


She wakes up. “Elijah, what did you do?”

**End of Part 3, End of "Fear Response."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this chapter! looking forward to all your thoughts as per usual. sorry for writing the angst, it was necessary :/ it hurt to Write.
> 
> my twitter is: @k3ytoev3rything


	12. Designer Complicity - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, here's chapter 12, hope you enjoy it!
> 
> tw / chloroform, vivid description of murdered body, parent/child fight, blood, wounds, and slight physical violence from parent to child

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Designer Complicity Part 1**

_ Young Hope Mikaelson was standing right in the basement, frozen in her steps, looking down at the box. The box. _

_ With each and every step, she gets closer and closer to the box. She’s debating whether or not to open it. And just when she’s about to, she hears her name. _

  
  


_ “Hope! What the hell are you doing? You know that your father’s and I’s things are off-limits.” _

  
  


_ It was her uncle Elijah, who grabbed her forcefully and held on to her arm grip tight. _

  
  


_ “I saw something, uncle Elijah. I saw a woman.” _

  
  


_ Elijah stares at her, mouth wide open. “That doesn’t concern you, do you hear me?” _

_ Young Hope Mikaelson is about to cry. “You’re hurting me, uncle Elijah.” _

  
  


_ “I SAID DO YOU HEAR ME. Never speak of her again. You have no idea what either of us are capable of.” _

  
  


It wasn’t just this memory that resurfaced, but memories of her father drugging her, Aurora and her father kissing, the day of his arrest, everything just flooding her mind all at once.

  
  


“And you triggered this memory on purpose by inhaling chloroform?”

  
  


Hope looks at Dr. Claire, her hand visibly shaking. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  
  


“Hope. Chloroform is both toxic and volatile.”

  
  


“Two extremely underrated qualities.” Hope tries to pull off a relaxed voice, but she’s extremely anxious at the moment. And it’s obvious to Dr. Claire.

  
  


“You are suffering, Hope. Let me help you. We can do this work. We’ve done it before. But I need you to talk to me.”

  
  


The auburn-haired woman is holding a glass of water and her hands are still shaking. The tremors are only getting worse and they won’t stop, no matter what she tries to think of to get it to end. She’s looking downward, avoiding looking at Dr. Claire in the eyes. Finally looking up, however, she says the simplest of statements.

  
  


“Tell me about my step-mother. Tell me about my mother.”

  
  


“They’re both… Complicated women.”

  
  


“And my uncle?”

  
  


“Also a… Complicated man.”

  
  


“Is my uncle complicated because he’s hard to figure out or because he has 23 murders on his hands? I mentioned the girl in the box to him, god knows how long before my father was arrested. He shut me down, punished me like I had done something wrong.”

  
  


“And you did nothing wrong.” Dr. Claire’s voice was filled with compassion.

  
  


“Maybe I did. What if he didn’t want me to call the cops?” Her voice was getting higher and higher, angrier and angrier. “If my uncle knew what my father was doing, also involved in what he was doing, he would’ve been complicit and a right hand man, they would’ve arrested him, too.”

  
  


“Remember, you’re taking all of this from a dream. You’re starting to sound a bit obsessive.”

  
  


“Cause I am! My family is the Marshalls and the Mikaelsons, the two families who had the world on their strings.” The cup of water she’s holding is getting a tighter grasp from her fingers, threatening to spill. “My father was the most famous doctor in New York, the whole world! My uncle was a world-renowned political scientist, everyone wanted Elijah Mikaelson in their academic and public sphere seminars. They were the dream duo, everyone spoke of them as if they were the ones, no one spoke of my mother and father, no one spoke of my step-mother and father, it was always Klaus and Elijah Mikaelson. The dream come true for my uncle. What wouldn’t he do to protect that?! What did he do?!”

  
  


At that, the cup shattered. Glass broke her skin, her blood began to pool around the cuts. She screamed out and immediately reached for a tissue. Luckily for her, the box was on the table next to her chair. Dr. Claire was shocked, mouth gaped, not knowing what to even say. “Maybe we should consider a-adjusting your medication.”

She groans. “My meds are fine.” She grabs her phone, stands up, and begins to head out.

Dr. Claire stands up right after. “Hope, you cannot walk out of here. You are in a crisis.”

She turns around briefly. “Finally, we can agree.”

Her phone began to ring. “Thank god.” She picks it up. “Stefan, what do you got for me?” She leaves Dr. Claire’s office, leaving the brunette woman standing there, looking at the door with both hands on her hips.

* * *

At the crime scene, Hope walks into an apartment building with Stefan on her left hand side.

The loft is rather contemporary in its architecture. Everything was surrounded by long windows and columns.

  
  


“Francesca Guerrera, 23. She was a model and social media influencer.” Hope, while listening to Stefan, begins to look at Francesca.

  
  


She was completely painted in blue, with gold glitter from her neck all the way to her chest and breasts. Some of the gold glitter was applied to her lips like lipstick. Her left hand was gripping the tub, while the other was just resting on it. The tub itself was filled with blue water and the gold glitter. Her bracelet was resting around half her left arm. Her hair was curled, as if she was ready to go out.

  
  


“And no, I don’t know what any of that means, so I’m hoping you don’t ask me.”

  
  


Hope tilts her head to the side. “What is this?” She begins to observe every single detail. Penelope Park was there, as per usual, doing her job of collecting samples of the water, the glitter, the paint, everything.

  
  


“Francesca’s assistant found her this morning.” The profiler looks at MG, and quickly looks to see who was next to MG.

  
  


Josie.

She remembers everything that happened between them because she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It plays like a movie in her head.

  
  


“ _ Why do you care? Why do you care so much, Josie? I am nothing to you. I am not a math problem that you think you can solve so easily. I am not your answer and you sure as fuck aren’t mine. There is no this. This is nothing. I am a bad person, I am a lie, I am a person fabricated out of deception, lies, and murder. I am worthless. _ ”

  
  


She regretted most of those words now. And thinking about them while she was looking into Josie’s angelic face hurt even more.

  
  


“ _ Who pretended to care about you that now you hate it? _ ”

  
  


Who pretended to care? Almost everyone in my life, she thought. Her father, her uncle, her step-mother, the boyfriends, the girlfriends, and significant others she had. There weren't a whole lot of people that she dated, but they certainly acted a lot like her family on that part.

  
  


“ _ But you’re a pipe dream. And I swear, I’ll protect you. Give your back to me, and I promise I’ll keep you alive. _ ”

  
  


A pipe dream that she would protect. What if she had promised Josie the same thing? God, things would be so different, right? If one thing turns out different, the chain of events would completely change, yeah? It’s all that runs in her mind. It won’t stopー

  
  


“Forced entry at the door.” She snaps out of her thoughts to MG’s voice talking about Francesca. Right, she was still here, at the crime scene.

  
  


Josie looks right at her, piercing the profiler’s soul with her gaze. “We canvassed the complex. No one heard a thing.” She looked away from the detective’s piercing scrutiny.

  
  


“Building has motion sensors, but no video. Celebrities like FG don’t want that, cause those videos end up on TMZ.”

  
  


“FG?” Stefan turns to face him, looking at him questioningly. He really did have no clue about any of this.

  
  


“Francesca’s Instagram handle.”

  
  


On that, Hope looks up. “You were a fan?”

  
  


“Francesca was born in Harlem. FG was a homegirl before her career blew up. It just-It just ain’t right at all.”

  
  


MG looks at the tub, with his arms crossed, and immediately looks away, towards the windows. Anything and everything at this point would be distracting enough to not think about Francesca. Stefan moves slightly towards him and puts his hand on his arm, then leaves the three of them to continue investigating the scene of the crime. Josie looks at him, trying to think of a way that she could comfort him.

Hope looks away herself and directs her attention to Penelope. “Doctor?”

  
  


“If you’re lucky.” Penelope laughs.

  
  


The profiler looks away and smiles. Penelope shrugs and then frowns. “I mean, hello.”

Hope sighs. “It doesn’t look like she was drowned.” She looks back and forth from Francesca’s body to Penelope, who is looking at her with extreme intensity. “There’d be signs of a struggle.”

Hope kneels in front of the tub. Penelope interjected then. “Agreed. I’ll check to see if there’s any water in her lungs and see if there’s anything underneath the body paint.”

  
  


“Killer arranged the scene with an eye for detail. Design, even.” She notices that the bracelet had the initials AD on it.

  
  


“The killer didn’t design this. It was Alphonz Delgallo. Or, rather, Papa Tunde.”

  
  


Hope stands up and looks at MG. “Who?”

  
  


“Clothing designer. This was AD’s first outdoor campaign and Francesca’s big break.” He hands his phone to the profiler. Hope grabs it and further moves from the tub so as to be able to see Francesca’s body to that of the photo.

  
  


“This campaign made her career. They’ve been together ever since.”

  
  


“This is incredible. Everything is arranged exactly the same. The blue skin. The sequins. This crime scene was an act of devotion.”

  
  


She begins to imagine the killer in the act. Painting her skin, adding each and every single piece of gold glitter in the parts of her skin.

Josie looks at her curiously, and a bit angry. “They were so devoted to Francesca they had to kill her?”

Hope rolls her eyes. “No, the killer wasn’t after the  _ real _ Francesca, they were after this.” She turns the phone towards MG and Josie.

They look at the picture, realizing that what Hope’s saying makes sense.

  
  


“Staged. They had to kill her to make it possible.”

  
  


Stefan stands next to them now, behind the bathtub, putting away his phone. “Alphonz Delgallo is outside. Claims he’s her boyfriend.” He looks at the group closely and sighs. “All right, MG and Josie, run-down Francesca’s friends and family, see if there’s anything there.”

He looks at Hope and motions between the both of them. “You and I, we’ll wrangle the ‘boyfriend’.”

Hope looks at him and then nods. They head downstairs, where a group of cops was blocking the front of the place.

  
  


“Look, officer, I’m as close to kin as Francesca’s got. You have to let me in there.”

  
  


“Sir, you need to calm down.”

  
  


“No, I won’t! Man, just let me in and see her!” He turns to the ginger haired woman next to him. Behind her, two women are also present. “Don’t they know who I am, huh?!” She grabs his arm.

  
  


“Alphonz, calm down. They’re cops, not paparazzi.”

  
  


Stefan stands next to one of the cops. “Hey, Alphonz?”

Alphonz breaks free from the woman’s grasp and looks at the lieutenant.

“My name is Lieutenant Stefan Salvatore. If you really want to help Francesca, you’re gonna have to answer a few questions for us, hope that’s okay with you.”

Alphonz looks at anywhere that isn't Stefan, but nods.

  
  


“Were you with her last night?”

  
  


“No, we umㅡ” He turns and walks away, crying.

  
  


“Alphonz had a gallery opening and then a dinner at Red Hook. FG never showed.”

  
  


Hope looks at her with a serious face, arms crossed. None of them know that they’re being observed by a profiler. “And who are you?”

  
  


“I’m Genevieve, Alphonz’s manager. Celeste is security,” she points at the woman on her left hand side. “And Eva does media.” She points to the woman on her right side.

  
  


Eva was on her phone, scrolling through something. Hope desperately wants to know what it is that has Eva so concentrated on her phone. “We need to get ahead of this, Alphonz. Here’s a personal response.” She shows him her phone, to which he looks at and reads what’s on there.

So, that’s what she was looking up. Responses he can give to the public. Interesting.

  
  


“Had Francesca worried about anyone? Family? Friends? Co-workers?” He looks between all of them, curiously.

  
  


“Francesca loved her fans, but some of them loved her a little too much. Made a second career out of filing restraining orders.”

  
  


Hope looks at his facial expressions. “She had a stalker?”

He looks at her angrily. “A few.” He turns to the police officer. “Yo, why can’t I see her, huh?!”

Stefan smiles slightly, but it was all serious. “Look, Alphonz, trust me when I tell you this. You don’t want to see her like this.” He never noticed that Hope was getting frustrated and annoyed with this whole situation already.

  
  


“No, but I have to. I can’t just stand out here like this.”

  
  


“You don’t want―”

  
  


Hope had enough.

  
  


“The killer used Francesca’s corpse to recreate your first outdoor campaign.” Stefan turns to look at her and rolls his eyes. He’s not even disappointed nor surprised.

  
  


Alphonz looks her straight in the eyes, shocked. “The Blue Bath?”

It was Hope’s turn to channel the anger. The anger directed towards her mother, her uncle, the sadness she felt over her last interaction with Josie, the one she can never take back. “What are you so afraid of, Alphonz?”

  
  


“Um. I’m not. I’m not at all. I just─ that’s just so awful.”

  
  


“‘Awful’? That’s not how you just responded right now. Your body triggered an acute stress response. You got scared. Why?”

  
  


Celeste interjects then. “Yo, who is this Tom-Ford-wearing cop and why are they acting like Alphonz is a suspect?” She puts her hands on her hips, standing in front of Alphonz like she has to protect him from the threat that is Hope Mikaelson.

Stefan tries to calm down the situation. “Ms. Marshall is a special consultant.”

Surprisingly, Hope hadn’t flinched. Of course, it has made her cringe once again,  **_Marshall is your lifeline, Mikaelson is your downfall_ ** ringing in her mind. But it hadn’t made her visibly flinch. A slight improvement, perhaps?

  
  


“And Alphonz is a suspect because he’s acting suspicious.”

  
  


The tension rose higher and they all began to stare at Hope. Eva looked her down. “Genevieve, call a lawyer.” They all turned around and began to walk, except for Alphonz. Celeste had to grab his arm and pull him away, looking at the cops. “That’s it, no more questions. We’re leaving.”

That’s when Celeste and Alphonz joined the others, not once looking back.

* * *

Hope and Stefan had left the premises to get to Stefan’s car.

  
  


“What the hell, Mikaelson? You hit the guy with a ton of bricks.”

  
  


“Alphonz knows more than what he’s saying. When he heard about how Francesca died, he wasn’t sad or angry. He was scared. Why?”

  
  


“We may never know because you came in too hot and now he’s all lawyered up. Look, if you can’t keep your cool on this case―”

  
  


“I can. I promise. Okay?”

  
  


Promise.  _ Promise _ .

  
  


“ _ But you’re a pipe dream. And I swear, I’ll protect you. Give your back to me, and I promise I’ll keep you alive. _ ”

  
  


That word is so haunting.

She gasps. Stefan looks at her, worried. “What’s going on with you?”

She looks away. “I need a favor.”

Stefan cackles. “A favor. After the stunt you just pulled. Well, you’ve got some timing, Mikaelson.”

  
  


“I need access to The Surgeon’s case files. From the night that he was arrested. All I want to see is my mother’s, my step-mother’s, and my uncle’s interviews. What they said, how they said it. I need to understand how they framed The Great Evil.”

  
  


“That’s a big chunk of your family. Your mom? Your step-mom? Your uncle? What kind of rabbit hole are you going down?”

  
  


Hope is staring him down. She owes Stefan everything, she can’t pressure him.

  
  


“NYPD is never going to release those tapes.” He’s looking at the building on his left-hand side, he can’t afford to look at Hope’s face or if not, it’s game over for him. “My hands are tied.”

  
  


He walks towards the driver’s side. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Stefan opens the door and turns on the engine. Hope didn’t move right away. No, she’s cursing everything in her mind. If she can’t get those tapes, she’ll never figure out the truth. And the one source of truth is a liar. Those tapes are her only bet.

Reluctantly, she gets into the car. Blaming no one but herself.

* * *

At her loft, Hope opens up the door and locks it. Ono made a chirp, getting her to look his way. She smiles at him, Flynn, and Sergeant Oliver, who goes towards her. She picks him up.

  
  


“Damn that bird.”

  
  


Hope walks towards her bed and sees that her mother is looking out the window. Well, a small part of it, since the other side still needs to be repaired from her incident. She stares her down angrily, grateful that her mother can’t see her face.

  
  


“Mother. To what do I owe the displeasure? Why am I not even surprised you’ve showed up?”

  
  


“I thought you were on the next plane leaving. Why haven’t you left?” She turned around to face her daughter and upon seeing her, was shocked at the face she was getting.

  
  


“Why did you go back? You knew what seeing your father again would do to you. Part of you had to know.” She walks closer to Hope, fully knowing that crossing these waters would make her drown. “You’re not even sleeping, Hope.”

  
  


But Hayley stands a little too close for comfort now, and Hope raises her cut-up hand. “I have work to do.” She heads towards the kitchen to remove the bandage and replace it with a new and clean one. Before grabbing a pair of scissors and her first aid kit, she puts down her cat, who walks away to go to his food and water bowls.

Hayley stays in place, at the front of the steps that begin the area where her bed is. “Your father has agreed to remove you from his visitor list.”

She was cutting the bandage at that exact moment. Mistake, but surprisingly, she didn’t accidentally stab herself and make her wounds worse. “What?” She looks at her mother, surprised. “What did you do?”

Hayley looks her down. “Anything to keep my daughter safe and sane. Ish.”

The profiler looks away and keeps tying her new bandage to the best of her ability. “It was when I caught you visiting him, wasn’t it? That’s when he supposedly agreed, right? How fitting is it that it wasn’t long after I asked you about what you and Aurora talked about, which was a complete lie, of course, and then you showed up with her and my aunts at his cell? So, so fitting. Is this when you’re going to tell me why you and Aurora are suddenly best friends? Or are you going to keep lying about that?”

Memories began to flood her mind. She sees her uncle asking her what she’s doing, she sees him being forceful, she sees her mother screaming to get her father out of the house with Aunt Freya and Aunt Keelin in the background holding Nik, everything flashes through her mind all at once.

Hayley had walked over to the kitchen at that point, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and poured herself some.

  
  


“You promised, all of you had promised, that you would never see him again. You, all of you, kept that promise for 20 years. I wonder, why now? Why choose to break the promise now? Why are you all so hell-bent on keeping me away from him? Keeping Nik from ever knowing about him?”

  
  


“Why are you so interested in knowing the truth?”

  
  


“It’s part of my goddamn job, I seek to know the truth to get justice. Why do you have to keep avoiding my questions?”

  
  


Holding her glass, she turns to face her daughter, looking at her vigorously. “Fine, you want to know the truth so bad. Here it is. Your step-mother and I never stopped having contact. In fact, she and I are close friends. Why? Because I know the truth that you don’t. Your step-mother pretended to hate you for years on purpose, because I told her to do so. It would be easier for you if you two had no contact, since you began to despise her, Hope. With no warning at all. You saw her and associated every aspect of her with your father. So, that’s why I told her to hate you. It hurt us both, but now I’m trying to fix our mistakes so that you two can have a relationship again. As for the reason why I went to see your father, it was because I wanted to tell him to stop taking away from me the one thing I have always had, which is you, Hope. You’re my everything. If I lose you, I have nothing left. But look at yourself, Hope. You are falling apart with each visit. I’m doing you a favor.”

  
  


Hope doesn’t know what to say or what to do next. Her feelings are overwhelming her and she feels the breakdown coming. The next best choice is to ignore it, ignore everything her mother says. “I need those visits for my work.”

Hayley scoffs. “Classic. Just classic. You know he needs them more.”

  
  


“You’re right, mother. He wouldn’t give them up without a price. So, what was it? What did you offer?”

  
  


“Why are you interrogating me?”

  
  


“I could ask you the same thing. But you and I both know there’s something that you don’t want me to know.”

  
  


“You kept your visits from me, Hope. I at least have confessed the truth just now, which you completely ignored. As usual, intimacy is your enemy.”

  
  


“Don’t start with that. Don’t, just don’t.”

  
  


They’re both staring each other down. Hope knows what she’s going to say next is going to backfire, but she has to. She just has to.

  
  


“Did you know that Uncle Elijah knew about the murders or was involved in them? Is that why he never visits? Why he resents me? Why do you refuse to let me visit my father? Is that what you’re hiding? Along with the long list of other things.”

  
  


Hayley stares at her wide-eyed. She can’t believe all these questions coming from Hope. How dare her own daughter accuse her of such a thing?

  
  


“I have endured vicious lies. Vicious whispers. Baseless accusations. Cozy winks from Camille O’Connell. I expected it from strangers. Not my own daughter.”

  
  


“Guess that makes two of us.”

  
  


“You know it took everything that I had in me to walk into that cell with Aurora, Freya, and Rebekah.”

  
  


“Oh, spare me, mother. You all knew exactly what Uncle Elijah and my father were doing.”

  
  


At that, Hayley gasped and slapped Hope across the face. Hope grunts, avoiding to look her mother in the eye until she recovered. Slowly but surely, she faced her once again, holding her face with her bandaged hand.

  
  


“I told Elijah about the girl in the box. Before the arrest even happened. He was wearing a suit, guess he had just come from one of those academic conferences he always had before the murders came out. He told me and made me promise to never speak of it again.”

  
  


She stares at her daughter dumbfoundedly. “Your father is in your head, Hope.”

The auburn-haired woman looks at her mother angrily. “So are you.”

Hayley scoffs. “Isn’t it funny to you how your father is a serial killer, yet after all these years, I’m suddenly the monster? But don’t worry, it’s all fine. I don’t need you to love me, I just need you to stay alive.”

Hope gasps. This is the god-knows-how-many-times a conversation has triggered her to remember Josie’s words. The way that she associated her fight with her mother with what Josie was telling her and now it was the exact opposite, the inverse.

  
  


“ _ It’s fine. I was the fool that thought you would care that someone looked out for you. I was there when you slept walk, I protected you then and you hugged me like your life was on the line, like it was the last time you would ever get a hug, any kind of affection. It was my mistake, not yours _ .”

  
  


Her mother grabbed her purse and left her there, thinking of the entire conversation they just had, thinking of the conversation she had with Josie, still.

* * *

Hope Mikaelson wasted no time at all. She got into a taxi and headed for the one place she knew she could get answers, even though they probably were a semblance of the truth.

Claremont Psychiatric Hospital.

She walks into the hall that leads to her father’s cell. Mister Damon was at the end, just outside the door, sitting in his chair. He gets up quickly, his face in shock.

  
  


“Kid, what are you doing here?”

  
  


She keeps walking, nothing stopping her. “I just need five minutes.” She takes a moment to look at him. “Can you get me that?”

He looks at her, concern all over his face. “Fine, just this once. Understand?”

She nods. “Okay, it’s all I need, promise.”

She hits the window. “Mister Damon, before you unlock the door, are you ever going to tell me why you’re here in the first place?”

His expression is void of emotion. “Maybe you should ask my brother. And while you’re at it, maybe tell him to visit some time.”

She glances at him from head to toe and nods again, waiting for him to unlock the door. Once unlocked, she heads in and is greeted with the shocked expression of Klaus Mikaelson.

He puts his book down and turns his chair in Hope’s direction. “What is the point of a visitation list if we’re not gonna respect it?”

He got up and walked towards her. “Your mother is going to kill me.”

Hope, however, was just entirely unfazed towards her father. “Why did you agree to help her?”

The Great Evil stares at his daughter, expressionless, emotionless, restrained.

  
  


“Well, one rule of co-parenting is listening to your partner’s needs.”

  
  


Hope separates herself from the red line. Her hand begins to tremble and she balls it into a fist before her father sees anything, but also to try and keep herself under control. Today has been heavy.

Too late.

  
  


“Oh, no. Oh, dear. Oh, you feel rejected. I should have known.”

  
  


Hope looks at her father, anger protruding from her eyes, jaw clenched. “You’re a profound narcissist. You have no idea how I’m feeling.”

  
  


“I think, Hope, I  _ may _ understand you a bit more than you give me credit for. I mean, you do keep coming back.”

  
  


Hope goes straight for the kill. “Did my uncle know about your murders and was he involved in them?”

Once again, Klaus stares her down, his face devoid of anything and everything. Obnoxiously, he yells. “Come again?”

Hope is getting angry, very angry. “I fucking said, did my uncle know about your murders and was he involved in them? Did he know you were a fucking serial killer before your arrest?”

Klaus smiles. “Oof… Now that’s a big accusation. And it presents a bit of a conundrum. I mean, if I say yes, you won’t believe me. If I say no, you’ll be relieved. Still, a part of you will remember that I’ve been accused of being a pathological liar.” He moves back, smiles, and extends his arm out. “You tell me, which answer do you want to hear?” He motions both arms now as if he’s referring to something within his cell.

The Great Evil’s daughter pleadingly looks at her pathological liar, serial killer father. “The truth.” She says it so softly, it feels like a whisper.

  
  


“Oh, the truth. That takes time. And it can’t be shouted with a red line in between the both of us.”

  
  


He smiles slyly. “Look, y-y-y-you and your mother need to sort out your issues first. I don’t want to get in the middle of that. No, thank you.”

He begins to laugh uncontrollably. Hope stares at him one last time before she storms out, gets into the taxi, and realizes what it is she needs to do next.

**End of Part 1.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked this chapter, part two aka chapter 13 will be coming your way next week :)
> 
> follow me on twitter: @thekeytoevrythn  
> follow me on tumblr: @ao3user-thekeytoeverything


	13. Designer Complicity - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! here's a new chapter. i just wanna say thank you for being patient with me and for sticking around and reading this fic. it really does mean a whole lot!
> 
> tw / chloroform, blood

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 13 - Designer Complicity Part 2**

Hope Mikaelson is back at the precinct in the case room. She’s trying to breathe and her tremors are awful.

Josie stands next to her.

  
  


“You okay?”

  
  


She looks at Josie from the corner of her eye. “Yeah. Great. Never better.” The profiler goes back to focusing on the board instead of trying to talk to Josie. Trying to understand why Josie even cares so much was like trying to understand why wind is invisible, yet you can still feel it. She knew that talking to Josie would mean she would pour out all her feelings, and she can’t let that happen right now.

  
  


“Hmm. So, that’s a ‘never better’ shaky hand, then? Is that a thing?”

  
  


She clenches her ruined fist, not so tightly to not reopen the wounds, and chuckles. “Stefan said no to a favor. Then, a small thermonuclear war between my mother and I broke out. Finally, I culminated the whole thing with a small visit to my father… Again. That was the icing on the dysfunctional family cake.”

In the middle of talking to Josie, her phone rings. She grabs it and sees it’s Nik. “Oh, and I’m also a horrible cousin.” She rejects the call.

Meanwhile, Nik was out at work. He was going around the van to get his stuff and get ready for the news he’s going to report today. His phone call to Hope went straight to voicemail. “ _ This is Marshall, leave a message. _ ”

  
  


“Uh, Aunt Hayley, Aunt Rebekah, my mom, and your wicked step-mother went to go see Uncle Klaus? What the hell? Is there some kind of family reunion going on? Is that why you can’t pick up the phone? You’re out buying matching t-shirts for all of us? Hopey, call me. Please.”

  
  


He hangs up the phone, feeling satisfied with himself. He knows he’ll get a call back soon, with the words, “Don’t call me that horrendous nickname of yours ever again.”

Back at the precinct, Hope and Josie are still next to each other. It’s an awkward silence, the awkward silence that demands to be felt deep in the soul and insists on being let free. Hope can’t believe she even opened up to the brunette. What is going on with her? If only they could have a better conversation, she thinks. But, MG is in the room, he doesn’t need to know what happened. Again, what is going on with her? Didn’t her mother say she had intimacy issues?

Stefan walks in, mug of coffee in one hand and his other hand in his pocket. “Where are we with Alphonz?”

MG looks up from his phone. “Well, his alibi checks out. He was at the Red Hook all night, his Instagram proves it.”

Josie sits down next to MG. She’s got the serious look down, staring intently at Hope. And Hope is staring at her right back. It’s so intense that the profiler can’t focus on the case and leaves MG wondering what’s going on.

Stefan sits on the table, holding the mug with both hands. “What’s your profile?”

It wasn’t until MG coughed that it snapped her out of it all. “Sorry. I, uh, Alphonz was right. We’re looking for a stalker. Someone driven by a dangerous mix of infatuation and longing. Psychologically,” She grabs MG’s phone, which surprises him and makes Josie laugh all in one. Her laugh. “A stalker is like an addict, but instead of a drug, they’re addicted to their obsession, usually a celebrity.” She shows the screen of the phone. “This is the delivery mechanism.”

She smiles briefly before Josie looks at her. Her smile leaves the moment the brunette turns to stare at her, back to a firm expression. So much for trying to make things better. “Is this a profile or an intervention for MG?” Once again, Josie laughs. He motions for his phone, and Hope hands it to him. More like throws it to him. He barely catches it. It’s a good thing that he’s a detective and not a pitcher.

Hope softly looks at Josie, without the brunette knowing once again, and continues her profile, hands in her pockets. Stefan, as per usual, notices everything. “Our killer is an intimacy-seeking stalker with erotomanic delusions. They’re obsessed with Francesca and believed she loved them, too.”

The auburn-haired woman looks at the table. “Are these,” she points. “Her restraining orders?”

  
  


“We pulled all the ones she filed within the last 12 months.” MG looks at Stefan.

  
  


Josie sits up and looks at Hope from the corner of her eyes. The detective feels the anger coursing through the heat of flushed skin on her face. Anger with the restraining orders, anger with the Mikaelson. “32 of them in over seven countries. It’s a real stack of freaks.”

Stefan looks at the files with Hope. “Yeah, but the real question is, are any of them actually killers? Let’s work through the pile.” He sees that MG is on his phone, doing god knows what. “Or are we gonna all surf the internet together?”

MG notices that the lieutenant is talking about him. “Looks like there’s a memorial over at Francesca’s place. And, boss, nobody surfs the internet anymore.”

The brunet rolls his eyes and Hope grabs MG’s phone, again. “Mikaelson, you have your own phone.”

On the screen of the phone was an Instagram post. The photo displayed a memorial to Francesca, with pictures of her, candles, and flowers. A typical memorial to anyone that passes away. “It’s a memorial to their obsession. An intimacy-seeking stalker would not be able to resist the chance to see this. We have to go.”

And out walks Hope Mikaelson from the case room, nobody following her yet. Stefan tries to reach out for her, but it’s no use, Hope Mikaelson does what Hope Mikaelson wants to do.

The lieutenant looks towards MG. For some reason, he knew that trying out with Josie wouldn’t be the right move. “Look after her, will you?”

MG rolls his eyes and starts walking in the direction Hope left to. “Will do, she still has my phone, after all.”

* * *

At the memorial, there were lots of people. Lots of people putting candles, letters, flowers, you name it. Lots of people are mourning a celebrity that never knew of their existence.

MG and Hope arrived and began to look around.

  
  


“What exactly are we looking for?”

  
  


“Dismiss anyone whose grief is mostly about appearances. Likewise, anyone who came in a group. We’re looking for a loner, someone who’s doing their best not to be noticed. There’s also a decent chance this person may want to document the experience. For themselves.”

  
  


She notices that MG isn’t paying much attention to what she was saying, and she observes him, without noticing that she was profiling him. This was going to be a big issue.

  
  


“Oh, you weren’t just a fan, weren’t you?”

  
  


“Nah, do not do your creepy profiling on me.”

  
  


“Not personally, but you met her. Growing up. Back home, perhaps?”

  
  


MG looks at her closely. He notices that yes, while it may be her profiling that’s doing the action, it’s not the profiling who’s doing the talking. Hope was curious, but it was out of sincerity, or as sincere as curiosity can be.

  
  


“Kabul.”

  
  


Hope looks at him wide-eyed. “She was a USO entertainer.”

  
  


“They’d fly them in between fighting seasons. It was nice to hear some jokes. Shake hands with a famous person. I once said three words with her. ‘Thanks for coming.’ Her smile then kept me going for months.”

  
  


MG was looking really sad and the auburn-haired noticed. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we will find the person who did this.”

MG looked at her hand with disgust. “Can you not touch me with your shaky, bandaged hand?”

Hope quickly removes her hand. And then her mother wonders why she has “intimacy issues.” She scoffs. “Cool.”

Just then, they both notice someone who fits what Hope described earlier. This man, with his camera bag and leather jacket, was taking pictures of the memorial. Inch by inch.

  
  


“Check out the loner. Appropriately somber. All kinds of weird.”

  
  


“Huh. Solid. Good catch.”

  
  


MG looks at him closely, under scrutiny. “Pretty sure I saw him in Francesca’s freak stack.”

They took advantage of the fact that he was leaving in that moment and heading in their direction. The man doesn’t notice that he’s being watched, but MG makes things clear rather quickly.

  
  


“Hey buddy, you got a minute to talk?”

  
  


The man turns around and looks at the detective and the profiler from head to toe. Police. He runs.

  
  


“Hey, yo! Stop, man! NYPD!”

  
  


It didn’t take long for everything to end quickly. The man tripped over garbage bags that were on the opposite side of the street on the sidewalk and dropped his camera upon hitting the floor, almost shattering it.

Hope runs to where the camera is and grabs it. “Whoa, nice camera!” She runs again, but away from the man, toying with him.

  
  


“Give it back.”

  
  


“I told you to stop and I know that you heard me.”

  
  


“It’s a public memorial. I have every right to be here. You can’t arrest me for that.”

  
  


The man looks at them, back and forth. The profiler scoffs. “Of course you had to be here. You had to be a part of it. Witness the glory of Francesca one last time.”

Hope flips the camera rather carelessly. She tries to see if she can look at any of the pictures. “Ugh, it’s locked.” She flips the camera again, negligently.

  
  


“B-B-Be careful with that.”

  
  


“Careful isn’t in her name, it’s not really her thing.”

  
  


The man looks at MG, seeing that he’s moving next to Hope.

  
  


“Yeah, I have a bit of a shaky hand. I got it from my dad. Real fun times, dude, let me tell you.”

  
  


“Do you want me to take it away from her? Keep it safe? I mean, I can do that, you know, if you come to the station. All we want to do is talk.”

  
  


Meanwhile, the man watches Hope play with the camera. It’s at the point of falling out of her hands. He knows he has to decide quickly or his camera is going to break apart.

  
  


“Okay, fine, I’ll go. Just get my camera away from her, please.” He pleads with MG, who grabs the camera, while Hope just stays there, smiling.

  
  


Hope elbows him softly. “Nice going, partner.”

  
  


“Let’s not call each other that, okay?” MG purses his lips and looks at the man. Hope shrugs, but smiles regardless. More out of satisfaction with getting the man to come to the station than anything.

  
  


Back at the precinct, the man is sitting in the case room. Hope is hovering next to him, repeatedly taking pictures of him with flash on her phone.

  
  


“Why am I here? I have rights. And my camera was undamaged before it got here.”

  
  


MG slams the table. “Tell me about Francesca. Why’d she have all these restraining orders against you?”

The man looks solemnly at the table, sort of unfazed from MG’s slam. “Those were all just a big misunderstanding. I was doing my job. I’m a photojournalist. I’m currently freelancing.”

By now, Hope had got really close to his face and had even sat on the table, flexing out her legs and getting even closer. The man grows extremely uncomfortable. “Do you mind?!”

  
  


“Oh, is it annoying? Someone taking your photos without your permission? It’s, uh, intrusive? Offensive? A-A violation?”

  
  


Hope continues to take photos of him. The man just sits there, growing angry yet annoyed at the profiler and the detective. Meanwhile, MG has walked around him and is now behind him. “Yeah, I mean, you stalked Francesca for a living, called her in the middle of the night, sent her obscene photos.”

  
  


“Yeah, you proud of all that, Julian?”

  
  


He sighed. “All I wanted was to take her pictures. Spend some time together.”

At that, Hope stops taking pictures of him and looks at him sort of seriously. “You cared about her.”

Without looking at the profiler, Julian gives his answer. “I loved her. I’d never do something like this; I couldn’t.”

She shrugs and goes back to taking his picture, which upset him greatly. “Stop it! Just leave me out of it. You should just talk to Alphonz.”

By now, MG had circled the entire table all over again and was right where he was originally ー on the opposite side of Hope. But upon hearing Alphonz being mentioned, he moves again, dangerously close to Julian. “Alphonz? What’s your beef with Alphonz?”

Julian thinks for a bit before answering. “I can’t…” He looks downward. “He’s just shady.”

Hope was sitting on the table, legs crossed, holding her phone and pointing at Julian with her index finger angrily. “If there’s something that you know about Alphonz that you’re not telling us―”

A table slam. “What do you know, man?”

Hope, however, realizes why he can’t say a thing. It was the realization of it all, hitting hard. “You can’t say. You can’t say because you were stalking Francesca when you saw something and if you admitted it, you’d be in violation of your court order.” She stays looking at him for a few more seconds before looking over to MG, and MG does the same.

  
  


“You said you loved her, Julian. You said it like you meant it.”

  
  


“I did.”

  
  


“Well, when you love someone, you’ll do anything for them. Even if it hurts you. That’s love.”

  
  


Her words slightly shock her, mostly because she never expected to say such a thing. She thinks about her mother saying she had intimacy issues. Hasn’t everyone in her entire life proven that she has intimacy issues? So, then, how could she ever know a thing about love?

Julian and Hope stayed staring at each other for a long time. It was a battle, a battle that would not be won easily. He stares just a few more seconds. “Lawyer. I want to see my lawyer.”

Hope scoffs and puts her left elbow on her left thigh, her hand lies on her lips.

* * *

Hope Mikaelson is now in Stefan Salvatore’s office. She’s sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, while he stands to the side.

  
  


“Julian’s not our guy. He’s reading more like an incompetent stalker than an intimacy seeking one.”

  
  


“What’s the difference?”

  
  


“He knows that Francesca didn’t love him back. There was no erotomanic delusion.”

  
  


“Makes sense.”

  
  


She looks off to his desk. “I smell formalin. Is that Penelope’s report? May I?”

Stefan walks to his desk, grabs the report, and gives it to Hope. “Knock yourself out.”

  
  


“Francesca was killed by strangulation, even though there were no signs at the scene. Her colored contact lenses masked the petechial hemorrhaging, and the body paint masked the bruising. Check out the direction of those marks on her neck.”

  
  


“The perpetrator was facing Francesca when they strangled her.” Stefan nodded. “But she had minimal defense wounds. There’s no way Julian could have pulled this off without a fight.” She points towards him. “But Alphonz could.”

  
  


The lieutenant rolls his eyes. “He was out all night with an alibi. And he doesn’t fit your profile. He isn’t a stalker.”

She thinks about his statement with a sly smile on her face. “Perhaps. But he is hiding something.” She points towards Julian. “And so is he.”

  
  


“It’s not enough to hold him. MG’s not gonna like it when I cut him loose.”

  
  


She shrugs. “You could tell him your hands are tied.”

They both look at each other for a while. Stefan puts his hands on his hips. “Go home, Mikaelson. You need some sleep.”

She laughs. “What I need is to see those Great Evil case files.”

Stefan looks at her, considers his answer carefully. “Mikaelson, I was there on the night. I can tell you, your mother, your step-mother, and your uncle had no idea what your father was up to. You got to believe me.”

  
  


“I do. Trust me, I really do. I just don’t trust Aurora, and I especially don’t trust Elijah. My mother… She’s just a big question mark right now.”

* * *

Back at the Mikaelson Townhouse, Elijah was looking through his closet. Looking through his closet for the one suit he hadn’t laid eyes on in at least 20 years. 

You see, he was worried about the memory. The memory that Hayley had confronted him about not even 10 minutes ago that Hope had told her.

Him wearing a suit, a suit he possibly wore to one of his seminars or a conference.

He finally finds it and takes it out of the closet. He holds it close as he leaves his closet and sits on the bed, closing his eyes.

He remembers everything.

  
  


_ Elijah Mikaelson was headed towards Klaus Mikaelson’s room. He knocks on the door and waits for him to open it. Once he does, he storms in and puts his hands on his head. He turns around, eyes closed, his arms now on his sides. _

  
  


_ “Klaus, this is getting dangerous. Your daughter is remembering things, seeing things.” _

  
  


_ He laughs. “Elijah, you don’t understand.” He goes towards his brother to reassure him, but Elijah puts out his hand, stopping him in his tracks. _

  
  


_ “I don’t want to understand. I have heard and seen enough from her. If you don’t start giving her more chloroform, she will keep remembering and remembering and then our fun is over. It is time for you to understand that and understand the implications this has if you don’t do as I’m telling you.” _

  
  


_ Klaus looks around and sits on his bed. What he doesn’t know is that Aurora had already finished showering and was listening to everything intently, scared out of her mind from what she’s hearing. _

  
  


_ “Don’t you think I would have done this already if I could, brother? If I give her any more, if I up the dose, she could die. I don’t want my daughter to die. It would break Hayley's and Aurora’s hearts.” _

  
  


_ Elijah scoffs. “Such triviality doesn’t matter. What matters is us, our bond, brother. Nothing and no one can come between us. You of all people know this to be true. It doesn’t matter if she’s gone. It’ll be one less person on this wretched planet, one more to our list.” _

_ At this point, Aurora is crying softly in the bathroom. _

_ Klaus gets up. “You’re a monster, Elijah.” _

_ Elijah walks away, to the other side of the bedroom. He laughs. “Perhaps so, but no one needs to know about anything. We can keep living this life, brother. Just do what I say and we’ll triumph.” _

_ Klaus goes up to the brunet and, in fistfuls, grabs a part of his suit. “My daughter is off-limits. Do you understand me? So is the rest of our family. Anyone that isn’t part of that small circle is ours for the taking. If anyone is going to listen to anyone here, it will be you listening to me. We will have our perfect family. We will not throw that away. But I’m not the only one who gets to decide. You do, too.” _

_ Klaus walks away, leaving a rugged suit and a shocked Elijah in place. _

  
  


Elijah snaps out of his thoughts and holds the suit tighter. He throws it across the room, everything haunting him suddenly. Was he regretting everything that he said about his niece? No, that’s impossible. He was the notorious brother, loyal brother, to The Surgeon, The Great Evil.

But yet, he felt remorse about it all. Remorse for joining his brother, remorse for letting his brother be the monster, remorse for becoming a monster with him.

Remorse for letting himself speak in that way about his beloved niece, when family meant everything, the Mikaelsons being the light of his life.

* * *

Julian was finally leaving the precinct. His camera broken, but he was happy that he was finally out of there, even though he didn’t dare show it on his face.

Upon walking, he hears a lot of clatters and cats screeching, prompting him to turn around. Nevertheless, because he sees nothing, he keeps walking. He then turns around again because, from the corner of his eye, he sees a figure running to the other side of the street.

He stays looking behind him for quite some time. His thought is that he’s going to die in this very second. But he doesn’t even prepare for that possibility.

He turns around and sees the figure is now in front of him.

  
  


“Hello, Julian.”

  
  


He screams. “God, what the fuck? Cops can’t sneak up on people like that.”

A smile.

  
  


“Technically, I’m a consultant. Well, that is, until my boss fires me, which at this point seems inevitable.”

  
  


Awkward silence.

Hope Mikaelson sighs. “Listen, Julian, I need you to tell me everything you know about Alphonz.”

  
  


“You know I can’t do that.”

  
  


“The police won’t press charges as long as you tell the truth.”

  
  


Julian got dangerously close. “You stole my camera. You manipulated me. Maybe I’m a freak to you, but I cared about Francesca.” He paused, then pushed her off. He looks back without turning around. “Screw you.” He then keeps walking.

Hope stayed standing there, trying to figure out what to say next. “You’re right. I can see that now.” She turns and runs off after him, stands in front of him. “You would never hurt her. But I-I have to show you something. A picture.” She looks for it in her pocket.

  
  


“What picture?”

  
  


She shows it to him; the picture taken at the crime scene of Francesca. “The killer was facing Francesca when they crushed her esophagus. That forced her eyes open. She had to look at them while they strangled her to death. Who did this, Julian? Who killed her?”

  
  


“I know what you’re trying to do. It will not work. And you can rot in hell.”

  
  


Julian walks away from her. Hope looks back and watches him leave. She grabs her phone and marks a number. “Stefan, I tried the photo. Julian still won’t talk.”

Just then, she hears tires squealing on the pavement. She looks and sees a car turning right, with Julian on top of it. His body rolls off the hood of the car and the driver speeds up, leaving the scene of the crime.

She puts her phone away and runs. “Julian? Julian!”

She grabs it again. “Stefan? I need an ambulance. Tell them to come to the corner of 52nd and 11th street, Julian just got hit by a car.”

She stares at Julian wide-eyed, who is passed out from impact. His camera is further destroyed. She waits for Stefan to confirm the ambulance, as she turns towards the direction of the runaway car, looking at the car getting smaller and smaller in her vision.

* * *

The ambulance drops off Julian at Westview.

  
  


“Coming through! Clear the hall! Corner!”

  
  


A nurse comes up to one of the EMTs. Hope is close, listening to everything.

  
  


“Alright, what do we got here?”

  
  


“Hit and run. Possible dislocated shoulder, couple of broken ribs, but vitals are within range.”

  
  


As the nurse writes everything down, Hope goes up to the EMT. “Is he going to be okay?”

  
  


“Yeah, he got lucky.”

  
  


She faces Julian, then the EMT again. “Mind if I go talk to him?”

  
  


“Sure.”

  
  


She walks towards Julian slowly to not scare him. 

  
  


“Julian. Julian, can you hear me?”

  
  


“Look, will you justㅡ”

  
  


“Hey!” She firmly grips his shoulder. Must have been the dislocated one.

  
  


“OW!”

  
  


“Stay with me, man.”

  
  


“What are you talking about?”

  
  


“They’re prepping the OR now. They told me themselves they can’t stop the bleeding. Not with the broken rib piercing your stomach.”

  
  


“What does that mean?”

  
  


“It means you’re gonna die, Julian.”

  
  


“No, no, I can’t die. I got a cat.” She looks at him, pretending to be extremely sad at the situation.

  
  
  


Exhaling, she continues with what she was here for. “There’s only one thing you can do.” She grips the ambulance stretcher with her damaged hand.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Do right by Francesca. You loved her, and she did not deserve this.”

  
  


“No, she didn’t.” He purses his lips and closes his eyes. Unknown if it was the emotional pain of Francesca’s death or the physical pain of his injuries that caused him to shut his eyes.

  
  


“So tell me who did this. What do you know? I need to know the truth.”

  
  


Julian looks at her, on the verge of tears. “Francesca was leaving Alphonz for another fashion line. It wasn’t public yet, but last week, Alphonz flipped out on her. He hit her.”

A pause.

  
  


“The SD card in my jacket, take it, it’s yours now.”

  
  


She pulls out the SD card and then stares at him one last time. “Hang in there, Julian.”

She begins to leave when he calls out to her. “Wait.” She turns to face him and waits for what he has to say. “Watch my cat.”

She nods. “Sure thing.”

She leaves without a trace, as the nurses evaluate him.

* * *

Back at Mikaelson Townhouse, Elijah is sitting in a chair in front of Aurora’s vanity. His hands are on his head, rubbing his temples. Ever since the memory, he’s had a headache. He’s trying hard to relax, but he can’t. The remorse is eating him alive. He thinks about the fact that Hayley fought with him about the memory. Now, everything is unlocking itself in the doors of his mind. It was time the facade was dropped.

From behind, Aurora turns on the lights. She’s with Hayley and Nik. Nik was reluctant to be there, but Hayley and Freya were the ones who told him he needed to go, be part of what’s to happen.

Elijah sighs, without even focusing to see who was in the room or not because of having his eyes closed. “Aurora.”

  
  


“Not just her, but Aunt Hayley and I as well. The nephew you’ve been avoiding like the plague.”

  
  


“What are you doing in my room, Elijah?”

  
  


Hayley walks over and stands next to him, arms crossed. “What’s going on with you?”

Aurora visibly winces after Nik sits down in the chair next to Elijah. “Nothing, I’ll be fine.” He gets up and leaves.

Hayley takes his seat and sighs. She then starts to cry. Nik reaches for her hand and holds on to it like his life depended on it. “Aunt Hayley, what’s going on? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry like this.”

  
  


“I’m sorry, it’s just that we had a fight, and it was an epic fight.”

  
  


Nik looks away briefly. “You should have never gone to see him.”

She looks at him questioningly, and so does Aurora. “I wasn’t talking about your uncle, I was talking about Hope. We had a knock-down-drag-out kind of fight. It was knitty, it was gritty, it was real, it was raw.”

He stares at her, face devoid of all emotion. “This is about Hope. Of course.”

  
  


“It was biblical. Shakespearean. Someday Kristin Chenoweth will sing about it.”

  
  


Nik rolls his eyes. “You’re spiraling. Both of you. All because of Uncle Klaus.”

A pause.

  
  


“You know, I’m starting to think that I’m the only one in this family who could handle visiting him.”

  
  


Aurora looks at him in shock from her bed. “Nik, you don’t mean that.”

He looks at her. “Do I? I mean, I’m the only one without baggage, and he could actually help me. Do you know what a Klaus Mikaelson exclusive would do to my career?” He turns to face Hayley. “But thanks to you and my mom, he doesn’t even know I exist.”

Aurora takes a swig of whiskey and hands the glass to Hayley, who also takes a drink. The red-haired woman looks at him, interjects in the conversation. “He knows all about you, Nik. He was there when you were born, he saw you grow until you hit 5 years old. He watches your reports every day. His nephew, the star reporter. Klaus Mikaelson is your biggest fan.”

  
  


“He is?”

  
  


Hayley scoffs. “Can we please talk about something else? I’m sick of this conversation. Let’s talk about you.” She puts her hands on his knees and taps them.

  
  


“No, I don’t think I can. Goodbye, to both of you.”

  
  


He gets up and leaves both women sighing, wishing that everything would be different.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Lieutenant Stefan Salvatore walks into the case room.

  
  


“Hospital says that Julian is in stable condition, no matter what Mikaelson says.”

  
  


Hope shrugs and gives a sly smile, unbuttoning her suit jacket.

  
  


“The 19th precinct is investigating the hit-and-run. No plates on the vehicle. Checking security and traffic cams could take a while, though.” MG looks at everyone in the room.

  
  


Josie takes one look at Hope and looks into her blue eyes. How could someone like Hope Mikaelson mean so much to her? The brunette looks away before she does anything dumb and focuses only on Stefan. The last thing she’s interested in doing at the moment is fixing whatever the hell happened between her and Hope. “Francesca and Alphonz got into it a few days ago. Julian got the play-by-play.” She skips through the pictures.

The pictures were during the day. Francesca was wearing a plaid green tank top and skirt, with black boots. Alphonz was wearing a white long sleeve shirt and blue jeans, also wearing black boots. One picture shows how Alphonz hit Francesca, putting his left arm on her right shoulder. She was gasping in the picture, looking at his hand in shock. His right arm was upwards, almost about to hit her face.

Hope looks at the photos and so is MG. But it’s MG that says something. “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

Josie looks at him and sneaks a look at Hope again. It was the way that Hope focused so much on a case, and wanted to seek the truth, that got her addicted to her eyes. She focuses again on the case. “That could be pretty damaging for Alphonz.”

Stefan, however, isn’t even looking at the pictures. He’s focused on what’s behind the tv they brought into the case room to display the pictures. His focal point is entirely on the board, on the picture of Alphonz’s campaign. “What about this?” He taps on the picture. “Aren’t we still looking for a stalker who knew how important the Blue Bath was to Francesca?”

MG interjected then. “And Alphonz. Made him, too.”

That’s when everything fell into place for Hope and had her gears turning. She snaps her fingers and points at MG. “You’re right.”

He looks at her, confused. “I am?”

  
  


“Yes. Killing the ex who broke his heart. Running down the photographer who knew too much. This killer is trying to please Alphonz.”

  
  


“Makes sense. Caroline and I used to have a cat that would leave mice on our front doorstep every morning. Like she was leaving us gifts.”

  
  


Hope is excited. Too excited. Her eyes are wide and she’s got the smile going on. And it’s killing Josie, deep down inside. “Yes, that’s the perfect metaphor.”

MG looks at Josie, curiously. “And that’s one creepy cat.” Stefan looks at him and rolls his eyes, but the detective doesn’t even notice.

  
  


“This killer wants credit, like Stefan’s cat. These murders are gifts. This is why Alphonz was scared when I told him about the Blue Bath. He knows exactly who the killer is.”

  
  


Josie still hasn’t stopped staring at her. “How could you be so sure?”

It’s the first time that Hope looks at Josie. And it was like life and death all at once. It rejuvenated her and extinguished her all at once. Was this all but how Hope Mikaelson realized that this feeling was becoming all too familiar? A negligible accident? Or a significant miracle?

Hope inhaled as much air as she could, because her lungs were devoid of the oxygen her body needs. At that moment, however, she had a flashback episode. It was her uncle all over again. “ _ You have no idea what your father and I are capable of. _ ”

She looks at her, her blue eyes penetrating Josie’s brown eyes. “Family always knows.”

Stefan looks between Josie and Hope. There’s something going on here that he doesn’t quite understand, but he just rolls with it. “You’re saying it’s someone from his entourage?”

Hope nods her head, crossing her arms and looking away from everyone’s gaze.

MG lets out a noise. “We’ve got a problem. Alphonz is having a launch party for his new clothing line tonight and then hops on a plane to Europe.” 

Josie focuses her attention on MG. “Probably with his whole crew.”

  
  


“Then let’s go to the party.”

  
  


As Hope stands up, Stefan puts his hand out. “Hold on, Mikaelson.” MG and Josie had also stood up with her. “We can’t just go in there and flash badges. They don’t have to answer our questions. We have to have a warrant.”

Josie speaks up. “We don’t have enough time, boss.”

Hope closes her eyes and opens them again. All eyes are on her, but she only wants one pair. “I just need five minutes with Alphonz alone. Stalker psychology causes compulsive behavior. Hard to resist, nearly impossible to hide. I can do this.”

She waits in anticipation for his response. “Mikaelson, we’re cops. And we either do it the right way or not at all. Nobody goes near that event,” he turns to face her. “Especially you.”

Hope, MG, and Josie all begin to look at each other, realizing the clock is ticking and there’s only one choice to make.

Go against Stefan’s orders.

* * *

The launch party was going as expected. There were lots of people, and lots of people surrounding Alphonz. Lots of dancing, lots of alcohol, and one awkward Hope Mikaelson maneuvering through the mess and thinking of how to get Alphonz alone.

As she’s walking through the tons of people, her phone buzzes. She gets it out of the interior pocket of her suit jacket and takes the call. “Hey, Nik. I’m sorry that I’ve not called you back, I’ve beenㅡ”

  
  


“In an epic flame war with your mom. I know.”

  
  


Nik is walking, phone in his right and his other is covering the other ear so he can hear better. There’s a lot of traffic between the cars and the train above. He’s kinda disappointed that this means she didn’t hear the “Hopey” voicemail, though.

  
  


“God, I don’t know what she’s told you, butㅡ”

  
  


“Listen, for once, I don’t want to be in the middle of anyone in this family. Yes, that definitely means that I don’t want to get in between you two.”

  
  


A pause.

  
  


“I want to talk about Uncle Klaus. Does he really watch my reports?”

  
  


Hope is in the middle of the dance floor, a stripper behind her. She looks around, trying to look for Alphonz as a distracter for this conversation. The stripper tried catching her attention, but it didn’t work. Scoffing, the stripper focuses on someone else. “Uh, yeah. He’s been tracking all the murders around the city. He wants us to, uh, team up.”

Nik keeps walking, but now he’s gotten upset. “So, what you’re saying is that he watches me for you.”

Hope starts walking to look for a more quiet place. This phone call is gonna take a while. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. The Surgeon’s a perfectionist. He wouldn’t be watching you unless you were the best reporter in town. Why are you asking?”

Nik smiles. “I’m thinking of asking him for an interview.”

Hope stops walking, standing next to the DJ. “That’s a terrible fucking idea.”

  
  


“It’s really not, they’ve been kicking back all of my pitches at work and this would really get me in the inner circle.”

  
  


Hope starts to get angry. “At what expense?!”

  
  


“So, you don’t think I should do it?”

  
  


Just then, Hope finds Alphonz. He’s in his circle with Genevieve, Celeste, and Eva. She remembers distinctly what Celeste had said. “ _ Yo, who is this Tom-Ford-wearing cop and why are they acting like Alphonz is a suspect? _ ”

She sees the reason for what exactly she’s here for. “Look, Nik, I have to go. I have an after-hours thing.” And quickly hangs up on him.

Meanwhile, Nik had stopped walking and became motionless from head to toe. “What?”

He didn’t even get an answer, just the dial tone.

Hope walks over, making sure she was known first before jumping in on the situation. It was the only way. “Hey, Alphonz.”

  
  


“Oh.. Excuse me.”

He’s staring at her like she just ruined the party. But he heads over to her and puts his arm around her. “Hey, what-what are you doing here?” He laughs, nervously.

She grabs his arm, however, and forcefully removes it. “There’s been another attack. You have a stalker. One who’s willing to kill.”

Together, they start to walk away from his inner circle. His expression resembled stupefaction. “I have a stalker?”

  
  


“Yes. And if we don’t leave, you might be the next victim.”

  
  


“.....Alright, come with me.”

  
  


He motions with his index finger to her, leading her out, the killer already looking at them from far away, anger permeating their face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wonder what you're all thinking of the ending.... or what you think is going to happen.....
> 
> follow me on twitter: @thekeytoevrythn  
> follow me on tumblr (if you have that): ao3user-thekeytoeverything


	14. Designer Complicity - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! here's an update. i really hope you like it and as usual, your comments are always appreciated
> 
> tw / guns, alcohol, mention of murder, mention of medication

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Designer Complicity Part 3**

Both of them rushed down the stairs that were on the side of the building.

  
  


“You know, you’re not exactly acting like a cop. What is this?”

  
  


Looking behind her, she speaks. “The police knew that Francesca was leaving the company and you. You lied to them about your relationship. They have pictures of you two fighting. Nasty stuff. Looks bad.” She looks at him angrily, still projecting and turning all her feelings into fuel.

Alphonz rolls his eyes. “I couldn’t hurt her. I loved her.”

  
  


“Alphonz, the person who murdered Francesca cannot separate their feelings from yours. They killed her to protect you.” With her voice, she’s pleading with him to understand the level of severity in the situation.

  
  


“To protect me? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  
  


Frustrated, Hope yells louder. “You know who it is!”

  
  


“No, I don’t!”

  
  


“Yes, you do! They’re in your inner circle.” They’re on the ground floor, away from the stairs, and Hope is standing right in front of him. “You knew they were dangerous, but you didn’t realize how far they would go. Then you saw the Blue Bath, and you knew.”

  
  


Alphonz is looking at her, hands on his hips. He refuses to believe the words she’s saying.

  
  


“That scared you. Admit it.”

  
  


He points at her with his index finger. “My girlfriend was murdered.”

  
  


“Who is it?! Genevieve? Celeste? Eva?”

  
  


Alphonz looks at the profiler seriously. “You’re talking about my family.”

  
  


“I understand that. More than you know. But what happens next time? What are you going to do then? Continue to protect them? Lie for them?” She pauses and stares him in the eyes. “They’re family, right? You can still be scared of family.”

  
  


A long pause.

  
  


“She knows my every move.”

  
  


“It’s Celeste.”

  
  


Another pause, as Hope tries to think of what to do next.

  
  


“We can’t stay here. I’ll call for help.”

  
  


“Alphonz.”

  
  


From behind him came Celeste. Celeste was angry, and it was scaring Hope. Everything she’s uncovered is becoming real. This was real. Staring at her hand, Hope notices there’s a cocked gun. That was also real.

  
  


“Are you okay?”

  
  


“Yeah, I’m cool.”

  
  


Hope stares at the expression on Celeste’s face. She’s going to die here tonight, and she knows it. The only thing she’s sorry about is that she’s going to die before she’s able to talk to Josie and tell her they needed to chat about what happened between them. But heaven forbid she would not die trying to survive to make it to that point. It was as if her heart and mind were in a war, because her mind wanted the opposite, her mind wanted things to stay just like how they were in the case room.

  
  


“I’m cool, too. Super cool.” Hope had to say something before the fear ate her alive.

  
  


Celeste walks in front of Alphonz and pushes him back. “Alphonz, why don’t you go on ahead and get back to the party? She and I are going out for a walk.”

As the designer leaves, the profiler goes from looking at Celeste to him. She’s scared out of her mind, but she won’t let it show. “You can’t leave, Alphonz. Leaving is the same as doing it yourself. You’re complicit in the murder. How are you going to face your family? How are you going to live with what you have done?”

Flashbacks. Flashbacks to her mom, her step-mom, her uncle, her father.

She turns from looking at him to facing Celeste once again. Celeste then points the gun at the auburn-haired woman’s forehead. “Alphonz has nothing to worry about.”

  
  


“Cause he’s got you to take care of his problems, right? Just like you took care of Francesca?” Her stare is hard, pupils dilated, adrenaline rushing.

  
  


“Yeah, I took care of that. Just like I’m gonna take care of you. Now move.”

  
  


And that’s exactly what Hope Mikaelson doesn’t do. Hope Mikaelson does what Hope Mikaelson wants. And what she wants to do is defy Celeste, get her to know that she won.

She smiles, pulling back the sleeves of her shirt and suit and looking at the watch on her wrist. Celeste notices her movements, however. “What’s that for?”

Hope looks up. “All stalkers, every subtype, they all have one thing in common. They can’t stand to lose track of their obsession. I told them I could lure you out in five minutes. Well, it took me six instead.”

She looks at the profiler, confused. “Them?”

  
  


“Yeah, you know,  _ them _ .”

  
  


Just then, she turns around. In comes Stefan and MG, guns cocked and raised. It’s Stefan who yells out first. “You’re under arrest! Put the gun down now!”

When Celeste saw what was going to happen, she hovers her finger over the trigger. This was it, the end for Hope Mikaelson, the woman who tried to cleanse the world of sins similar to her father’s.

  
  


“Not so fast, put the gun down and step away from her.”

  
  


Josie.

She puts the gun down. From behind, MG grabs her arms, kicks away the gun, and handcuffs her, taking her to the cop car. Josie heads straight for Hope, uncocking her gun and putting it in its holster.

MG grips on to Celeste. “We made sure that Alphonz is inside. FG deserved so much better than the two of you. And I’m going to make sure that you’re gonna pay for what you did and get what you deserve.”

Stefan takes a look at Celeste. “You both are going away for a long time.”

He notices that Hope and Josie are having a private conversation, and because he wanted to give them the privacy they deserved, he leaves the area.

She’s looking right at the profiler. “You know, for a minute there, I really thought you were scared.”

Hope smiles. “Trust beats fear. I knew you were coming.”

She’s unbuttoning a few buttons from her shirt so she can remove the hidden mic. Josie inhales rather sharply, before touching the tape on the mic.

The auburn-haired woman jolts back. “Whoa! Your hands are icy cold. Why are your hands so cold?” Turns out the brunette isn’t the only one with sharp inhales. Josie’s touch. It’s like nothing she’s ever felt before.

A soft and sad whisper. “Okay, blue eyes.” Josie was walking away, but Hope didn’t let her. She grabs her hand. “Wait, don’t leave. Can we talk, soon?”

Josie surveys her. Where’s the falsity in this? She only nods and leaves, Hope’s touch lingering on her hand for hours.

* * *

“Love what you’ve done with the place. Very cozy.”

  
  


Stefan is at Hope’s loft. He’s observing all the touches and details the Mikaelson had created. 15th-century original paintings, original weapons of all kinds. An intricate fireplace made of marble and the wall of it was made of bricks. He then turns to pet her cat and looks at the bird and fish.

She was serving herself whiskey and had a drink of some. She smiled and turned to Stefan. “Want some?”

  
  


“Thanks.”

  
  


A pause as she makes the drink.

  
  


“DA called. He’s pressing charges against Celeste and Alphonz. You were right. Alphonz helped orchestrate a cover for his old friend.”

  
  


“But… You didn’t come here to tell me something I could read in a report.” She grabs both drinks, walks towards him, and hands him his drink. He takes it and swallows some.

  
  


He sighs. “Right again. So, why don’t you tell me why I’m here then, Sherlock Freud?”

They walk over to sit on the couch. “Well, you know I’ve been off my game, you know I’ve been seeing my father, and you know the new role my uncle is playing in my nightmares.”

He stares at her, a sad smile on his face. “Damn, you are a good profiler. Guess I can’t fire you.”

He takes another swig of his drink. Hope closes her eyes and opens them back up. “You want to?”

  
  


“Not usually, no.” He smiles, a bit warmer this time. But he lets go of the smile. “Lately, though.”

  
  


“I need to know the truth, Stefan. If my mother, my step-mother….. My uncle… If he knew… I need to see those tapes.”

  
  


A pause. Stefan decides whether or not he should do this. Hit or miss, could ruin Hope for a long time.

He reaches for a USB in his pocket and lays it out in front of her. “I was only able to get the one about your uncle before anyone in the NYPD saw me. Something told me his confession was the one you wanted to view the most. Sure you want to see this?”

She stares at the USB for what seems like a long time, and then grabs it.

* * *

_ A Few Days After Klaus Mikaelson’s Arrest - 2022 _

_ “You certain you didn’t know anything, Mr. Mikaelson?” _

  
  


_ Elijah looks at the person interviewing him. “Of course not.” _

  
  


_ “How is that possible? You’re his brother. This is the man you’ve been with since birth. Your brother killed 23 people and never told you? Everyone talks about both of you.” _

  
  


_ It was the anger that permeated throughout his face, the obvious anger. “I said, ‘of course not’ for a reason. I didn’t know about my brother’s actions. How many more times should I say it? How many more photographs of bodies should I look at? Why don’t you go find my lawyer? He should be here by now.” _

  
  


_ “I’ll go check.” _

  
  


_ At the moment that the detective leaves, Elijah lets out an exhale of relief. No more lying, it’s all that he thinks about. _

_ However, Elijah never expected that Stefan Salvatore would walk in then. “You’ve been in here a while. Water? Tea?” _

  
  


_ “Got anything stronger?” _

  
  


_ “Sadly, no.” _

* * *

_ Present Day - 2042 _

Hope Mikaelson had been watching the video intently, paying attention to every detail. As a profiler, she can tell whether or not Elijah Mikaelson was lying. And boy, was he lying.

But upon hearing Stefan on the recording, she stands up and looks fearfully at her tv.

* * *

_ A Few Days After Klaus Mikaelson’s Arrest - 2022 _

_ Elijah looks at the brunet questioningly. “You’re the officer that arrested my brother. You spoke with my niece.” Both of them stare at each other, but Elijah has no expression on his face. “Did she say anything?” _

  
  


_ “Not much. But she’s a real good kid. I’d be happy to talk to her again if that’s what you’d like.” _

  
  


_ “It’s fine. She’s not my child. You should ask her mother. Officer, while you’re here, you must know the truth, don’t you? That I knew of everything, took part in everything?” _

  
  


_ His smile turned rather evil. _

  
  


_ “Mr. Mikaelson, you asked for a lawyer, that is your riー” _

  
  


_ “Don’t play coy with me, Stefan. Don’t. The only reason why I’m not in prison right now is because you and I,” he motions between the both of them “are the same. We’d do anything and everything for family. Tell me, how’s everything working out for your brother, hmm? He always did love a good murder escapade. I remember seeing him quite a few times一” _

  
  


_ “Keep my brother’s name out of your mouth, Elijah. What I do for my brother is none of your business and nowhere near the same as what you did for yours.” _

  
  


_ Elijah cackles. “Perhaps, but I do know one thing. I would’ve added that brat you just talked to to the list. But Klaus grew soft for her, for her mother, for the woman he married. A man of his nature was never meant to love or care for anyone. He’s unloveable, so to, he is incapable of loving. Coward.” _

_ Stefan sits down, looks at the camera, and focuses on Elijah. “No offense to you, Elijah, but that sounds a little out of character for you. I know you love your brother. That girl you just called a brat came from him. You worship your brother, your loyalty to him never falters. I know you would protect that girl with your life. Damon told me himself, you called her your family’s hope. Don’t act like you don’t care about your family nor her.” _

_ Elijah looks at him, it’s to the point where a tear is about to fall from his eye. “Elijah, tell me, how many lives are you responsible for.” _

_ He closes his eyes. “All the Mikaelsons. Even Hayley Marshall and Aurora de Martel.” _

  
  


_ “You’re right, and they’re waiting for you back home. Especially Hope and Nik. Take care of them. Go home to them. Forget this ever happened.” _

  
  


_ “Do-Do you think they’ll be okay? The two of them.” _

  
  


_ “Maybe, but all of you need to help them. Go, I’ll solve everything here.” _

  
  


_ “What about your brother?” _

  
  


_ He sighs. “My brother is going to be Klaus’ caretaker whenever they transfer him to Claremont. That’s his punishment, the one that I was able to get for him. It’s for life, as long as Klaus lives. When Klaus dies and he’s still around, he then goes to federal prison. The two partners in crime, side by side.” _

* * *

_ Present Day - 2042 _

She was touching the screen of the tv, her tears flowing down. She can’t stop crying. Was this the breakdown she was supposed to have ages ago but never let her body release it?

She walks away from the tv, sits on the couch with her legs up touching her chest, and wraps her arms around them, crying for what seemed like hours.

It was finally nighttime in NYC, and because she had been crying, she couldn’t go to sleep. So, she took a shower and got dressed again, all to go see her mother at the homeless shelter she’s currently having as her philanthropy, where she knew her uncle would participate as well.

She leans against the streetlight when Hayley Marshall and Elijah Mikaelson walk out. In disbelief, Hayley looks at her daughter. “Hope? What are you doing here?”

  
  


“You mean, the last place that I would ever search for you? At a homeless shelter? Why are you here? I heard that you were done with your charity for this place.” Hope Mikaelson, always the most subtle.

  
  


Hayley looks over to Elijah. “I’m just.. Checking in on a renovation I’m funding. Anonymously, of course. Who would want money from a Marshall and a Mikaelson?”

Hope looks at her, cautiously. “You know, if you’d let your child know more often about the charity work that you’ve wanted to be a part of, maybe she wouldn’t go around calling you a liar and whatnot.”

Hayley smirks and laughs. “Now, I was taught that when a mother truly starts to show her heart, her child would immediately grab it and rip it out. Case in point.”

Elijah glances between the both of them. “I’ll leave you two for a moment to discuss whatever it is that happened between the both of you.”

Before he could go far, the profiler grabbed the back of his arm. “Don’t go so far away. I need to talk to you, too.”

He looks at her and nods.

  
  


“Back to our conversation… I’m sorry.”

  
  


Hayley stares at her in shock, holding back her tears. She shakes her head a few times. “I’m sorry, too. I haven’t been the mother that you’ve needed. Andー”

She grabs her mother’s hands. “And you’ve made everything better. Trust me, I know that now. How much you did for all of us. How hard it must’ve been at first. Thank you.”

A smile. “What I can’t stand is that he’s chained to a wall, happy, and all of us are out here, miserable.”

  
  


“We let him get in between us. Let’s not do that again.”

  
  


Silence. Followed by a hug. “I’ll leave you to talk to your uncle.” She gets in the car, waiting for Elijah.

Hope looks around, trying to look for him. She saw that he was on the other side of the street, at the park that was there. She walks to the park and stands in front of him. “I know what you did. I know it involved you. I saw the tape with you and Stefan. You did a lot for my dad. Why? Why take part in something that goes against your very being? Your morals? Or am I wrong to think that it does?”

He’s sat down on a bench, scoffing at his niece’s choice of words. “Family is always and forever. Niklaus is part of that family, part of that always and forever. If I had to stain my hands a bit, so be it.” He pauses briefly. “I regret getting involved every single day. I know that what I did was a choice, but I had to take that risk.”

  
  


“You’re right. It was a choice. And you could have ruined everything for our family because of that choice, you realize that, right? You were an accomplice in the murders, you would’ve gone to jail, too. And Stefan even protected you, so we could have you around. You weren’t even much help in the first place, you hated all of us. In all these years, have you ever cared about me at all? What about your own sisters? Your nephew? You haven’t shown to any of us that you’ve cared, Uncle Elijah. Do you regret sticking around?”

  
  


She gazes at him intently. Blue against hazel brown eyes. “Yes. Of course, I cared about you. Of course, I cared about all of you. You all mean the world to me, but so does your father, Hope.”

A yes that didn’t falter. A yes that didn’t take long to respond. Statements that were never thought twice about. The truth. Because the truth never delays.

  
  


“And I’d continue to make sure you’re safe repeatedly, with no hesitation. You’re part of my always and forever.”

  
  


She leaves him on the bench. She nods and walks away, touching her heart.

* * *

At the precinct, Hope finds Josie at her desk. Not having noticed the profiler walk in, she sits down and touches the brunette’s arm carefully.

  
  


“I thought we could talk now.”

  
  


Hope was already in the mood. She spoke with her mother and things ended well. She spoke with Elijah and got more information than she thought possible. Talking to Josie and making sure things were okay between them, alleviating their tension, it was important to do.

She puts the pen on her ear, looking at the profiler from head to toe. “Sure.”

Hope’s mouth stays open for a bit, but then she gets the much needed and necessary strength to speak. “I really am sorry. I’m sorry for what I said to you. I’m sorry for making you feel bad. What I said was wrong and I want to fix it.”

Both women stare at each other. Josie listens to everything Hope tells her. She does believe with everything in her that she’s being sincere with her. “I’m soー”

Grabbing her hand and clinging on tightly, the auburn-haired woman shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. I behaved irrationally, and having a bad day isn’t an excuse for it. I’m sorry I took out my emotions on you.”

A pause. Josie can barely contain her ragged breath, but luckily for her, Hope doesn’t notice it. “What if I let you fulfill that oath you told me?”

Josie raises an eyebrow. An odd choice of words she didn’t expect from the Mikaelson, but okay. “What if I let you fulfill that oath you told me, and I returned the favor. You give me your back and I promise I’ll protect you as well.”

The brunette looks at their intertwined hand. “I said I would keep you alive, not protect you.”

  
  


“I didn’t forget. I’m the one that’s protecting you, because I know you can keep yourself alive.”

  
  


Josie looks up at her eyes. The blue eyes that stare deep into her soul and knows all her intricacies, her secrets. “Okay. As long as you let me apologize. I also didn’t behave the right way. I had brought up the day that you had your night terror and sleepwalked. That wasn’t right. I even asked you a personal question, and I called you a side effect of my medication. I’m sorry for the way I behaved towards you.”

Hope grips her hand harder. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I see what you do for me, I see what you’ve done for me. I understand that you didn’t mean what you said. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

The brunette knows why she asked the question. What she said had been haunting her as well.

  
  


“ _ I can’t forgive you, you know that, Hope Mikaelson? _ ”

  
  


“I already forgave you, you just didn’t know.” Half the truth. The forgiveness was there, but her heart and mind could never let her forget. They were the reason for her anger. A wave of stupid, wretched anger.

  
  


And with that, hand still intertwined, the detective stands up and kisses the profiler’s forehead, squeezes her hands for the last time, and leaves.

Hope is left, in stupefaction, at Josie’s desk, remembering the rest of her own words.

  
  


_ You make me believe in the impossible. You make me believe that everything’s going to be okay. You’re the pipe dream. You’re the dream that haunts all the steps I could never take, because all those steps would break you to pieces. _

  
  


And the last thing she ever wants to do is shatter Josie Parker into fragments. But how can she ever think she’d never do it when everything she touches turns out cracked?

* * *

At Claremont Psychiatric Hospital, Klaus is getting prepped for a visitor by Damon. The banter that ensued between them went from talking about Stefan, to which one was eviler. Of course, it was mostly about Stefan. Klaus always had to let Damon know how into his brother he was at some point in their lives.

An odd choice of conversations. Truly an odd choice, indeed.

As Klaus finished getting attached to the wall and having his handcuffs, he turned to the wall, signature smile on his face. “Hope, you really should respect your mother’s—”

Upon turning around, he sees that somebody was hiding behind Damon, and it wasn’t Hope.

It was Nik.

Nik moves forward, as much as he can before he gets to the red line.

  
  


“Dr. Mikaelson, it’s been a long time.”

  
  
  


“It has. But please, call me Uncle Klaus.”

  
  


This was exactly Klaus needed. And he was going to relish in it.

**End of Part 3, End of "Designer Complicity."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like the way hosie is now because this won't last for long <3
> 
> twitter: @thekeytoevrythn  
> tumblr: ao3user-thekeytoeverything


	15. The Trip - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, here's another update! i was going to post this yesterday and then ao3 was down... so i just fell asleep, oops? 
> 
> tw / night terrors, alcohol, drugs, mental health medication
> 
> edit: i forgot to link here the playlist i made for this fic. here it is: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2vpfohJU8w5oXVlXfbM6rh?si=2-y0z8dQRtC4taTD-HUeWg

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Trip Part 1**

Hope Mikaelson was sitting in bed. She kept telling herself that she was going to sleep, repeating it like a mantra time and time again.

  
  


“You are gonna sleep. You hear me?” She takes the last swig of whiskey that was in her glass and sighs loudly. “Sleep like the damn dead.”

  
  


She gets herself in bed, pulling the covers over her body and putting on her restraints and mouth guard.

Letting her head rest on the pillow, she closes her eyes and for once, sleep came easily for her.

At the expense of another pavor nocturnus.

Memories of her father’s arrest came in waves.

  
  


_“Hope, I want you to remember something.”_

  
  


_Klaus Mikaelson kneels in front of her and he’s got his signature smile on._

  
  


_“Dad.”_

  
  


Another memory. _She opens the door of her father’s office and leaves._

_Klaus Mikaelson is lifted from the floor and taken to the cop car, forcefully dragged out of his house._

She wakes up. She stays still for a minute before she rolls over to her right side and looks out the window, arms under her pillow. It’s in this position that she falls asleep again.

And the memories flood back again.

Her mother. “ _You look exhausted._ ”

It was the day they went out for lunch at the fancy restaurant.

“ _Not sleeping will do that._ ”

  
  


“ _Night terrors?_ ”

  
  


She shifts and turns in bed. 

The conversation with Nik.

  
  


“ _I’ve been seeing new things, it’s like my subconscious is trying to show me something._ ”

  
  


“ _Like what?_ ”

  
  


“ _Lost memories._ ”

  
  


If only the memories ended there.

Her father, her mother.. again, her uncle.

  
  


“ _Your father’s and I’s things are off-limits!_ ”

  
  


“ _Hope, when was the last time you slept through the night?_ ”

  
  


“ _There was no girl in the box._ ”

  
  


She woke up again and decided she wouldn’t go to sleep for the third time. So much for the sleeping plans.

She got dressed, too casual for her taste, but there was no need to wear a suit at 3 AM. At least that’s what she told herself. So, she got dressed in a cashmere shirt and black skinny jeans with black nylon oxfords.

Walking down her block, she sees something so particular, she thought that it had to be a hallucination.

The station wagon.

It was parked on the other side of the street. She crossed over slowly, in shock. From inside, a body was moving. Once close enough, Hope can see the body, can hear the whimpers coming from the trunk.

Hope was registering everything. With fear in her eyes, she calls out to the body. “Hello?” She then notices chains binding the body of the person to the trunk. The crying vibrates through the windows.

  
  


“You okay?”

  
  


No response.

  
  


“Hey! Hey, I need some help! Hey!”

  
  


She turns to look back, anywhere but the trunk of the car, to see if she could get any help.

But then she snaps back to reality, to the sound of a dog barking, saliva foaming in their mouth, followed by the owner stepping out of his townhouse.

  
  


“Hey, you. Back away from my car!”

  
  


The profiler backs away from the station wagon, but takes a moment to truly look at the trunk, seeing the dog barking at her. “I said move!”

She raises her hands in defeat. “Sorry. I just, I, uh….” She walks away from the man, putting her hands on her face. She’s gasping for air. These hallucinations are not normal. “I just… need sleep.”

* * *

Hayley Marshall was holding a pen in her right hand and her phone in her left, scrolling through her emails.

She looks up when she sees that the door to the dining room opens. Hope Mikaelson enters, acting rather shy.

The auburn-haired claps her hands together and smiles at her mother. “Good morning!”

Hayley rolls her eyes while smiling herself. “Don’t lie to your mother. You look exhausted.”

Hope walks away from the door and grabs onto the chair next to her mother’s. “If I have to bring you to the hospital, my whole morning is going to get complicated.” She knows that it’s her mother’s weird way of making a joke.

She sighs. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

A scoff from Hayley.

Hope analyzes what her mother has in front of her. So many papers. “What are you so busy with?” The profiler grabs the teapot and pours some in a cup.

Hayley smiles again. “I am taking meetings for my charitable work. I’ve been thinking that maybe you were right.”

Hope’s eyes go wide as she takes a sip of the tea. “Impossible.”

The brunette laughs. “I shouldn’t be so cloak and dagger with my donations, and I should start talking to you about them at the same time. Our family’s foundation was once a formidable force for good, Hope. I’ve started to make some calls to some wonderful non-profit organizations that could really benefit from some—”

  
  


“Cash?”

  
  


A chuckle.

  
  


“Precisely.”

  
  


At that moment, however, Hope’s hand began to shake uncontrollably. She starts to breathe, or tries to anyway, but all her attempts come out ragged. Hayley looks at her daughter, to her hands. She grabs it with both her hands. “Talk to me.”

Hope looks up, eyes wide. “About what?”

  
  


“You’ve always listened to my issues. I always want to be here for yours.”

  
  


A silence. A silence that was felt deeply by Hope, nodding her head.

  
  


“These nightmares, your…. memories…. They’re getting worse?”

  
  


Hope doesn’t dare look up towards her mother. “Yes, they are becoming more vivid. I haven’t slept in days.”

She looks at her daughter carefully, as if looking at her too much would ruin her. “How about a joint therapy session? Or you can take a nap here on the couch? You’ll be next to me and if you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

  
  


“There’s only one thing that can help me.”

  
  


Hayley motions with her expression for Hope to continue talking.

  
  


“A murder.”

* * *

Hope is at the precinct and following Stefan around.

  
  


“No, Hope, I can’t help you.”

  
  


“Come on, Stefan. There has to be something.”

  
  


“Nothing that requires a profiler.”

  
  


“No murders, no kinks, no boiling bunnies, nothing deviant at all? This is New York.”

  
  


The lieutenant stops walking and turns around to face the profiler. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She closes her eyes, internally cursing his question. “I’m amazing. Top of the world.” She motions with her hands, sort of like she was making a rainbow of sorts.

  
  


“Well, you look like hell. And that off-the-charts manic thing you do… Is definitely off the charts.”

  
  


“Hey, boss.”

  
  


Stefan looks to his left and Hope slightly turns around to see MG walking towards the both of them.

  
  


“Do you need a ride?”

  
  


Stefan nods. “I’ll catch up.”

Right behind MG was Josie, who was putting on her black leather jacket. She looks at Hope from head to toe while walking. “Hey. You look fucking terrible.” She finishes putting on her jacket, smiles, winks at the profiler, and leaves.

Hope stood motionless and breathless. Her words come out at above a whisper level. She stays looking in Josie’s direction for a while. “I know, right?”

Once again, she faces Stefan. “Where are they going?”

From the corner of his eye, Stefan stares in the direction where MG and Josie came from. “It’s not your thing.”

  
  


“You don’t know that. I’m into all sorts of things.”

  
  


He looks at her face for a moment before answering her. “It’s a drug hit, double homicide. And I don’t need a profiler.”

  
  


“I hear you. I do. But would you believe that homicide is the only thing that appears to be keeping me sane?”

  
  


From around the precinct, many faces landed on Hope Mikaelson. But she doesn’t falter, nor does her expression change, as if a statement like this was quite normal. “Solving, not doing.”

She glances around the room before continuing to speak. “I need this.”

Stefan gazes at her, smiling.

Is there honestly any way to say no to Hope Mikaelson?

* * *

Hope and Stefan walk on the scene of the crime. As they approach, MG looks at Hope questioningly. “What’s she doing here?”

Both of them are motioned by another police officer to duck in order to pass the “police only” line. Hope laughs at his comment. “Hey! Detective MG! How about that game last night? Exciting stuff.”

MG’s expression is emotionless as he directs his full attention to Hope and only Hope. “What game?”

  
  


“Oh, you know, the game, with the players.”

  
  


Stefan, with his arms crossed in between them, looks at MG and MG returns the stare right back. Hope notices and rolls her eyes. “Forget it, I’ll just show myself to the body.”

She pushes between them and walks inside the building. “No, you won’t.”

And MG was absolutely right. No, she wouldn’t.

She walks right smack in the middle of a bakery. No employees, no food in the displays. Nothing. She looks around the place and sees no bodies or blood. What the hell is going on?

MG walks up right in front of Hope. “You don’t see it? Allow me.” He extends his arm and reaches for a door ahead of them. He motions for Hope to go inside first.

  
  


“Ah, makes sense. A speakeasy. Cool.”

  
  


Inside this speakeasy, it was dark. Very dark. It had a bar and around it, many kinds of paintings and photographs. But right on the floor is the object of Hope’s “affection.”

The body.

As she walks closer, avoiding being in the photographs for the body, Josie calls out to her. “What are you doing here?”

  
  


“I was in the neighborhood.”

  
  


It was Hope’s turn to return the favor. She looks at her from head to toe. Josie was a sight to behold. She was never one to believe in magic, but seeing how the brunette looks, she’s starting to.

Before she stares too long, Hope pulls herself away. “What do we got here?”

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Josie noticed the way Hope gazed at her and it made her lose her breath. She inhaled as much as she could before talking. “Two vics, starting here with the, let's be honest, crappy bodyguard. His throat was slashed, and his boss didn’t get off any easier.”

Josie looks over to where the other body is, and so does Hope. The detective walks over, leading the profiler over to the next one. MG follows as well and interjects then. “Our human snow globe: Aya Al-Rashid, 34, known pusher of molly, other high-end party drugs, and, yes, cocaine.”

As MG talks, Josie walks towards the woman slowly, looking carefully. Stefan was watching her closely. “She controlled all the drug dealers in New York City. She was ruthless, but respected.”

She notices that Hope can’t look at all the details on the body. Politely, she made known that she could help. “Allow me.” She grabs her flashlight and points firstly and directly towards Aya’s face.

Hope walks towards the body. She notices it rather quickly. “Someone cut out her tongue.” She looks Josie in the eyes. Blue on brown, smirk on serious. “And you said you didn’t need me.”

But Josie and everyone else ignored her. It was getting hard for Josie to breathe. To think. This was taking a slow toll on her mentally, and no balance of mood stabilizer, anxiolytic, and anti-psychotic medication was going to work.

  
  


“Talk to me, Parker.” Stefan puts his hand on her shoulder.

  
  


A strong inhale.

  
  


“Aya controlled most of Flatbush. But there is a contested section of Ditmas Avenue that the Trinitarios have been trying to get for the Dominicans. It’s an ongoing beef.”

  
  


Now Hope understands why Josie is acting this way. She remembers the day that she profiled the brunette, talking to her about her AA chip. This case was personal for her. She wants to make sure the detective knows that she’s here for her, but she wouldn’t know what else to do if something were to happen.

Hope went around, walking behind Josie and Stefan. She listens to the lieutenant closely. “And the Trinitarios answer to?” Stefan looks at the brunette closely.

  
  


“Jesse Reyes. If the Dominicans are responsible, Jesse is in the know.”

  
  


Meanwhile, Hope is looking around the area. She pictures the scenario. The bodyguard lets in the killer, to where Aya was. Aya gracefully gets up from her chair and says hello to said person.

She gets pulled away from the imagined scenario by Stefan’s voice. “Aya’s guys may be looking to hit back hard. If we’re not quick with a collar─”

  
  


“We’ve got ourselves a drug war.” Josie’s voice was shaky, raspy. Raw.

  
  


Hope looks around again in disbelief. “Are we sure this is about drugs?”

MG looks at her dumbfounded. “She’s literally covered in drugs.”

  
  


“Yeah, forget about that for a second. This happened fast. Aya wasn’t even out of her chair.”

  
  


“She must have been surprised, then.” It was a swift answer on Josie’s part. It made complete sense.

  
  


“Yes, but he paid that man,” she points at the dead body by the bar “good money to not be surprised. Whoever did this, Aya knew them.”

  
  


Stefan turns away from Josie and looks at the profiler. “You think our killer is a friend?”

Hope makes some sort of frown. “Possibly. At the very least, Aya trusted them.”

But MG is having none of it.

  
  


“Bro, this was an execution.”

  
  


Hope was not having it either. She walks over back to the body, right next to MG.

  
  


“Why did they cut out her tongue?”

  
  


Josie steps out from behind her. “Psychological warfare. Cartels have been using it since the 80s.” She tries to keep it together, but Hope is seeing right through her.

The profiler stares intensely into her eyes. “But this isn’t cartel. You said yourself this is street level, a turf dispute.”

Josie can’t look Hope in the eyes. She motions for her to keep going.

Hope points right at the body. “How much cocaine is this?”

  
  


“A kilo? It looks uncut.”

  
  


The auburn-haired looks at Josie. “The stint in narcotics...”

Anger all over the brunette’s face. “Get to the point.”

Behind them, Stefan had his eyes closed. He was extremely concerned for Josie. He may not know whether Hope understands what’s going on, but he hopes (all pun intended) that the detective gains some patience with the profiler.

Hope explains her point while Josie tries to calm down. They had already solved their problems; the brunette didn’t want to cause any further ones. But it’s getting harder to calm down the longer she’s in the speakeasy. “If this was a drug hit, strictly business, then why did the killer dump $20,000 worth of product on a dead guy? Seems like bad business. No, this was driven by anger. Like a vengeance killing.”

The profile was making zero sense to Josie. Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was her mental health issues and symptoms affecting her severely from her medication not working well at the moment, or maybe she really was analyzing this to the fullest extent and it genuinely was not making sense. But she had to make her thoughts known. “Mmm. Aya’s crew was tight. This is about turf or product.”

  
  


“Well, I’m not an expert in this like you–”

  
  


“Oh, would you look at that!” Josie extends her hand towards Hope. The anger was, at long last, visible all over her face. “We finally agree on something. You’re wrong.” She screamed out the wrong, sending shivers down her own spine.

  
  


For once, Hope doesn’t even bother answering back. She knows something’s wrong with Josie, and she knows Josie wouldn’t do this on purpose. She makes a mental note to talk to Josie once they’re out of here.

The detective turns to Stefan. “We need a sit-down with the Dominicans.”

That was his cue to finally breathe again. “I’ll make the call.”

  
  


“Thank you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. As she leaves, Hope looks at her. MG pushes Hope out of the way and follows her.

  
  


As soon as Josie left, Hope turned to Stefan. “Did I say something wrong?”

He walks to stand in front of her. “Lay off the Josie profile, Hope. Not everyone is keen on revisiting their past.” Hope looks down, nods, and leaves. But Stefan won’t let her get away that quickly. “I’ve been observing you two since you both started working together and the two of you have way too much tension. Any chance you know why?”

This is exactly what Hope has never wanted to talk about. In the past, whenever she’s been with someone or had a crush on someone, she was always used to keeping her feelings bottled up, private. She’s never been fond of sharing her feelings with people outside of the relationship or the person she’s had a crush on. For once in her life, however, she wants to talk about it with someone. These feelings she has for Josie aren’t normal, especially since she believes that she’s not the right person for Josie and not strong enough to protect her, the one thing that matters outside of her family. She could never give Josie Parker peace.

  
  


“Everything’s fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  
  


With that, she leaves Stefan behind, and once outside; she sees MG and Josie holding each other while walking side by side.

What is this feeling?

* * *

The four of them are walking into St. Patrick’s. For Hope, this had to be one of the weirdest experiences she’s ever had on a case.

  
  


“Why are we here?” She looks around the church building, trying to understand it all. As if the building’s architecture was going to give her any clues.

  
  


Stefan walked ahead, while Josie, Hope, and MG walked next to each other. Josie was still shaken up from earlier, and MG understood. “After the 2010s, gangs and police made a deal that churches would be safe spaces. Cops like Stefan were there making the truces, saving a lot of lives.”

The lieutenant had gotten down on his knees, to look at the crucified Jesus and do the sign of the cross. As Stefan got back up, everyone chose where they were going to sit. They sat right in the very front: Josie and MG distanced in the third row, Stefan in second, Hope in first. They sat there waiting for Jesse and the others, which didn’t take very long at all.

Right on cue, Jesse and the Dominicans appeared on the right-hand side by the candles lit up for the saints. Stefan hears them, sees them. Jesse stood in front of the crucified Jesus, did the sign of the cross several times, did a silent prayer while the rest of his men stood guard, and sat next to Stefan Salvatore while unbuttoning his suit.

  
  


“Jesse.”

  
  


“Lieutenant Salvatore.” That was Hope’s cue to turn around and look at Jesse in the eyes, but he simply ignored her. “I can only imagine that we are present here today to pay respects to the late Aya Al-Rashid.”

  
  


“Did you do it?”

  
  


Silence. As should have been expected inside the church, but it was awfully suspicious on Jesse’s part.

  
  


“If you ordered Aya Al-Rashid killed, they’ll come for you. You’ll lose men and product. Let me stop them.”

  
  


Stefan Salvatore, ever the man with the odd morals. First Damon and now Jesse?

  
  


“I am a legitimate businessman, Stefan. Off the record, though… none of my people were responsible. You want Maya and Diego.”

  
  


Josie gasped. To her luck, only she heard her own gasp. She leans in towards Stefan. “He’s lying. Maya Machado and Diego de León were in Aya’s camp. They were friends.”

Jesse doesn’t even bother directing his answer towards Josie, but responds to her claim, anyway. “Friends become enemies overnight in this business.”

  
  


“They’re both nonviolent. You know, like you?”

Jesse silently laughs at this. This time, Josie ignored him and continued talking. “Diego is Maya’s partner in all this. Maya is the brains of the entire operation. Maya doesn’t even move product.”

  
  


“I don’t know who your girl is over here, but she’s working off of stale intel. Maya was Aya’s number two. With a bullet.”

  
  


As Hope listens intently to the entire conversation, she hears chains rattling behind her. She slowly turns her head, because the last thing she wants to see is the body again. “Now she’s number one.”

  
  


“That’s not true. If you didn’t order the hit, then who did? Just give us a name.”

  
  


“Parker,” Stefan warns her.

  
  


“Insubordination is a dangerous thing.” Maybe Jesse was right.

  
  


But Hope was suffering, and no one was noticing.

Flashback episodes. Memories of not so long ago coming across the station wagon and seeing the body chained to the trunk, whimpers and crying sounds vibrating off the windows. And now the body was right there next to her. Terrifying.

  
  


“...one person has something to say and then all the others start thinking that they can have an opinion.”

  
  


“Ignore it,” she tells herself.

  
  


“Undermine you.”

  
  


“Ignore it.”

  
  


“Sabotage the entire project.”

  
  


Stefan looks at the crucified Jesus and back to Jesse, with a smile. “You and I just have different leadership styles.” Jesse coldly returns the smile.

Everything is sounding like a giant echo in Hope’s mind, as she focuses on the chain moving back and forth.

Jesse looks ahead again. “I wish I could help, cause you’re right. This is a war. But it’s not my war. It’s a war between Al-Rashid and Machado.”

Still, an echo around her, Hope reaches slowly with her right hand for the chain. As she’s about to touch it, the body itself reaches for the chain and hides it, leaving Hope gasping loudly and standing up from the pews.

Jesse’s men grab their guns and Stefan quickly extends out his arms, trying to calm down everyone. That’s when Jesse gets his first, proper look at Hope Mikaelson.

  
  


“Sorry, I thought it was a bug. I hate bugs.”

  
  


“Who is this?”

  
  


Stefan gives himself a moment to think before giving an answer. “Ms. Marshall is our profiler.”

He looks downward while Jesse stays staring at Hope and nods slowly.

Hope is slightly shaking and looking away from everyone. The body, the last name…. It’s all getting to be too much. But, she needs to profile Jesse, let him know her thoughts. “Aya had her tongue cut out.” She takes the moment to look at him before she proceeds. “Why would someone do that?”

Jesse’s answer did not falter, and it was a simple one. “People are superstitious.”

  
  


“But you’re not. You’re a religious man. Catholic. You did the sign of the cross before you sat down, probably said a silent prayer.”

  
  


“Some cultures believe you remove a part of the body after death, you trap the soul inside of the body forever.”

  
  


“Damning them to walk the Earth.”

  
  


“That’s how you know I’ve got nothing to do with this. I don’t need a bunch of ghosts following me around.”

  
  


Jesse maintains his composure as he fixates himself on Hope’s face and gets up, leaving the church. His response impressed Hope, leaving her briefly speechless, looking backward, and seeing the body is no longer there. “You and me both.”

**End of Part 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like this chapter!
> 
> next chapter is going to be.... interesting....
> 
> twitter: @thekeytoevrythn  
> tumblr: @ao3user-thekeytoeverything


	16. The Trip - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, bet you didn't expect an update so quickly,, HA.
> 
> honestly thought it would be a good idea to update now before the semester starts tomorrow and might get busy with a full workload for school, so here's the new chapter and i hope you enjoy every second of it.
> 
> here's a playlist i made for the fic a while back: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2vpfohJU8w5oXVlXfbM6rh?si=Zh_zVV0qTFii1_4w6U1bfA
> 
> tw / drugs, medication, mention of human trafficking, hallucinations, mentions of mental health, anxiety, panic attacks

**Chapter 16: The Trip Part 2**

Back at the precinct, cops are working through a bunch of paperwork and phone calls.

Sat down at a desk is Hope, looking through a file in front of her, twirling her pen in thought.

Her phone rings, but she doesn’t dare pick it up. In this particular moment, she’s not only lost in her thoughts, but she’s entirely disoriented from the case. The body she hallucinated at the church. It’s all she can think about.

The profiler doesn’t notice Josie coming in.

The brunette is nervous as she approaches the table. She holds onto the chair in front of her, inhales and exhales deeply.

  
  


“What are you working on?”

  
  


Her voice. Josie’s voice brought back Hope from all those thoughts that had her oceans away. The auburn-haired looks at Josie, tapping on the file with her left hand. “My profile.”

The detective nods. She hadn’t realized she was looking down until she focused on Hope once again. “Jesse’s the killer. You see that, right?”

Hope twirls with her pen again, pursing her lips. “Of course I do. But he’s not Aya’s killer.”

Josie looks away for a moment, towards the rest of the precinct and back to Hope. “But neither is Maya. So… If you’re thinking she fits your profile, back off.”

Hope can hear the slight threat in Josie’s voice. But she can also feel this intense emotion in her heart. It’s the same feeling she felt outside the crime scene, when she saw her and MG together. What is this unversed sentiment, and why did it suddenly feel warm in her heart?

The profiler sighs and looks at Josie with understanding. “Tell me why. Profiles are built on information. And right now, our information points to Maya.”

A scoff.

Hope is trying to remain calm. “But I don’t know her the way that you do. Or did.”

But so was Josie.

The problem was, it wasn’t working well for her on her end.

  
  


“Don’t do that.” Anger visible all over the detective’s face.

  
  


Hope looks at her questioningly. “I don’t understand.”

  
  


“Profile me. Don’t do that shit again.”

  
  


This time, it was Hope’s turn to scoff. “Josie, I want to help you. But, I can’t do that until you help me understand. I don’t know Maya. You do.”

Josie looks at Hope. It was intense; it was excruciating; it was woeful. Just when Josie was going to tell her everything, Stefan and MG came walking in through the doors.

Stefan has a file in hand. “Penelope’s report is in. The drug on Aya’s body wasn’t coke.” He continues to walk until he’s on Hope’s left side, right next to the file cabinet. He leans in there, with arms crossed.

MG stayed on Hope’s right side, close to Josie. “It was a mix of psilocybin and MDMA.” Once the detective finished his statement, he looked over to Josie, mouthing out, “are you okay?”

Hope grabbed the file and looked over the details of the report. “Huh. Mushrooms and ecstasy. Sounds like a particularly rousing combination.” Josie noticed MG’s question and mouthed back, “yeah.”

Josie faces the scenario in front of her and rolls her eyes. “Is there anything in that report that’s going to help us catch our killer?” She also crosses her arms.

MG has his left hand on the chair next to Hope, while he has his right hand on his Glock. “Aya and the bodyguard were killed with the same blade.”

As Hope was flipping through the file with her left hand, she extended her arm to point towards the board, which was filled with pictures of the case, still looking through the paperwork. “But the spatter pattern was irregular. The bodyguard was covered in blood, but Aya’s chest was clean, like she was wearing some kind of outer layer.”

The profiler had stayed looking at the papers while she talked, but then looked over to Stefan. The lieutenant nodded his head in acknowledgment. A silent agreement between the two of them that Josie had caught on.

Josie briefly glanced at everyone in the room, not entirely understanding what was going on. “Okay?”

Stefan sighs. “There’s something else.” He looks over to Hope so she can take over.

  
  


“The bodyguard was killed second.” She scratches underneath her right eyebrow, nervous of the reaction for what she’s going to say next. The two detectives look at each other in confusion, questioning what was said. “Uh, the DNA transfer proves it. Our killer never went through security because… Aya knew them. Like a friend, I think.”

  
  


Stefan was looking at Josie the entire time. He knew how tough this was for her. Once again, he hopes the profiler has the patience to stay calm for the rest of the case. He wouldn’t dare tell Hope why Josie was acting how she was because it wasn’t his story to tell. But he doesn’t know that she knows the story, even though Hope hinted at it in front of him while they were in the speakeasy.

Josie looked up and saw that the brunet was staring at her, which prompted her to look away. The last thing she wanted right now was pity. This case was becoming too much for her, affecting her mental health too much. It was like they were in the speakeasy all over again, and she knew exactly what Hope and Stefan were insinuating.

She can’t handle the pressure of this case.

  
  


“We need to talk to Maya.” Stefan stands straight, while Hope gazes at Josie with worry in her eyes. She knew that there was something there making the detective nervous, and she wanted to desperately help her.

  
  


Josie is trying not to have a panic attack. She’s breathing hard, but doesn’t want the others to know or notice. Finally, using the bit of strength she had left and with a lot of courage, she looks at Stefan. “Okay. Let me do it.”

With a serious face in which his expression never budged, he responds calmly. “No. Not a chance. You’re too close to this.”

Josie smiles out of fear, out of feeling anxious in a tense situation. “See, I-I think that’s a good thing.”

  
  


“Josie, you’re wrong.”

  
  


It was the first time in a long time that Stefan had called the detective by her first name, and it scared her.

Stefan looks at MG. “Work up a warrant.” Then, he addresses everyone else. “When the judge says we’re good, we go in together. No moves until then. Got it?”

Hope nods her head in a silent acknowledgment of his words.

Josie was the only one to respond to him. “Got it.”

And when the profiler looks at her, all she can think of is how she wishes she could comfort the detective.

* * *

Back at the Mikaelson Townhouse, Hayley was standing by the head of the table. She was fanning herself with a piece of paper and trying to calm down.

Classical music is playing in the background, but that doesn’t soothe her nerves one bit. She sighs loudly. “Blake!”

In comes a woman with a clipboard, awaiting orders. “Have Sofya clean all of this up.”

She looks all around the table. “All of it? There’s still time if someone’s running late, Ms. Marshall.”

Hayley puts a hand up. “Let’s not fool ourselves. Four guests, four no-shows, we all know what this is.” She walked over to the other side of the table. “No one wants anything to do with The Surgeon, The Great Evil. Even though it's my money, not his.” She grips onto two chairs to not express her anger any further.

  
  


“I can follow up.”

  
  


“That won’t be necessary.” The brunette walked over to the scotch and poured herself some in a glass.

  
  


“I’m sorry, Ms. Marshall.”

  
  


And with that, Blake leaves the room, leaves Hayley to her drink. But she wasn’t alone anymore. Freya and Rebekah walk into the room and stand next to her.

Hayley looks at both of them. “I just wanted to do something, give back. If I could do one good thing to protect another child from something like what happened to my daughter, I─”

The two women hold on to her shoulders. “We know,” Rebekah reassures her. “We both know how much this means to you, and we are here for you all the way.”

Freya interjects then. “Rebekah and I will help you find people with organizations in need of money, Hayley.”

The three of them hold hands. “Always and forever?”

Rebekah and Hayley smile, replied in unison. “Always and forever.”

  
  


“I hope we’re not interrupting. I’ll have one if the drinks are going around.”

  
  


The three of them turn around to see a blonde and a brunette at the door. The brunette was anxiously looking around, hands in her pockets, while the blonde was smiling wide. Hayley walks away from Freya and Rebekah, looking at her in the eye. “And who are you?”

  
  


“Lizzie Parker, I’m here for your money. This is my sister, Josie. She works for the NYPD, she’s just here for moral support.” The blonde grabs her sister, and they smile at each other, but Josie’s smile wasn’t sincere. Not entirely, anyway. If only Lizzie knew what was up. But she definitely knows there’s something wrong, and it’s definitely related to work.

  
  


Lizzie Parker. Josie’s twin sister. Also in her late 20s, also doesn’t take any bullshit from anyone. Runs a great foundation, but it’s all… Well.

That’s a bit of a secret.

Lizzie and Josie. Together since birth. A strong bond that was a force to be reckoned with, a powerful bond that every set of twins in the world wished they had. Since they were little, they did almost everything together. Josette Laughlin was the best mother the twins could have ever asked for, they were blessed with a real gem. She was their rock and their biggest supporter as children and still is as adults.

When Josie became a cop and Lizzie created her foundation, she was there through every step. However, with their mother in Portland, escaping it all, she couldn’t be there for her daughter’s big day.

Hayley looks at Josie rather curiously. “NYPD, huh? Then you probably know my daughter, Hope?”

The brunette enters a state of shock. She’s in front of Hope’s mother?! She can’t believe it. Before arriving at the Mikaelson Townhouse, she knew she would meet the woman that would be Hope’s mother, The Great Evil’s… Something? Everyone in New York knew that Klaus Mikaelson didn’t marry Hayley Marshall. But she never expected Hope’s mother to look like this. Or even be in front of her. It was rather tricky, her thoughts and the way she was perceiving this meeting, perceiving Hayley. She’s meeting the profiler’s mother, in this very moment, and it’s not as Hope’sー

  
  


“Yes, I do. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Marshall.” She extends her hand out, and Hayley laughs slightly, taking in Josie’s hand and shaking it. “Call me Hayley.”

  
  


Hayley looks towards Lizzie, and they also shake hands.

  
  


“So, Ms. Parker…”

  
  


She walks over to the paper she had in her hand and tries to look for Lizzie’s and Josie’s last name.

  
  


“Oh, you won’t find us on that list. We slipped past your housekeeper, which I can assure you Josie scolded me for that. But you don’t have great security, do you?”

  
  


Hayley looks at her in shock. Freya and Rebekah look at each other with curiosity in their eyes. They already like Lizzie’s attitude.

  
  


“I’m an attorney, and I heard that you’re looking to invest in a foundation with a good cause. I hope you don’t mind me crashing along with my sister. I’m the kind of person that prefers a personal approach.”

  
  


Hayley closes her eyes, and shakes her head, opens them back up. “You’re an attorney?”

Lizzie smiles. “I have a… rather particular focus. I fight human trafficking. Finding funding isn’t easy. At all.”

The Marshall in question looks at her with confusion on her face. “Do you know who…?”

The attorney looks back at her sister, who immediately sensed she was being stared at. Josie looks at her sister first, and then towards Hayley. Lizzie looks back to the front. “We both do,” replied Lizzie firmly. “Hopefully, you won’t judge me by my exes or… uh… other situations... either. I may or may not have done some research before coming to you, that’s how I found out.”

Hayley realizes then that Hope confided in Josie in order for her to know about Klaus. What was so special about the brunette that Hope told her? How did her daughter tell Josie? When?

Lizzie moves forward. “I’m looking for a smart partner with deep pockets. And if you really are interested in making a tangible impact on a global scale, I’ll have that drink.”

A pause.

Hayley smirks. She likes Lizzie’s way of confrontation and planning. “Rocks?”

  
  


“Neat.”

  
  


The smirk comes back. And stays.

Freya and Rebekah grab her once again and cheer her on in unison, eager to show how proud they were of the Marshall heir.

* * *

It was finally nighttime, and all throughout New York, the lights were bright.

But they were slightly darker in Maya’s club.

Inside the club, the music vibrated against the walls.

People were thriving, dancing all over the place, some moving from one part of the club to another.

Then there was Josie.

She was walking into Maya’s club, the anxiety already at an all-time high. All that goes through her mind are her memories of this place. And she’s trying not to get seen by Maya.

Josie stops momentarily to assimilate who is in the club, so as to not get caught by Maya’s guards. But someone else finds her instead.

  
  


“Come here often?”

  
  


It felt like an intense whisper in her ear. “Listen, I’m notー”

The detective sees then who it is.

Hope Mikaelson.

The profiler stood in front of her, looking like a million dollars. This has to be the best suit she’s worn yet. And her best heels, too. She looks at Hope from head to toe, noticing that the auburn-haired’s pursed lips.

  
  


“Dammit, Mikaelson, what are you doing here?”

  
  


“Can’t sleep,” Hope points at her. “What’s your excuse?”

  
  


Hope looks around the place. “This is Maya’s club, right?”

  
  


“Well, I’m going to get way more out of her than if there’s 12 dudes with guns pointed at her.”

  
  


“And you wouldn’t disobey Stefan unless you had to. So… Why do you have to?”

  
  


Hope waits for her response as she crosses her hands.

Josie rolls her eyes. “The answer is ‘yes,’ to your bad pickup line. At least I-I used to.”

  
  


“Yeah, I know that you got hooked undercover. So this is where it all was?”

  
  


“Yes. I did it for two years.”

  
  


Just then, from out of nowhere, a man stood next to both of them. “Excuse me, but Ms. Machado would like to have a word with both of you.”

The frustration is apparent on Josie’s face. Turning around, she faces the giant window of Maya’s office, to see her standing there. Maya’s rubbing her knuckles and her focus of attention isn’t at all Josie.

Josie motions for Hope to move before any of her men pushed them forward. She knows from  _ personal experience _ that when Maya wants something; she gets it.

The profiler is in sync with the detective. She leans to Josie so that the man behind them doesn’t hear their conversation. “Are you sure that woman’s not dangerous? Because in my experience, people who lurk behind giant windows in nightclubs are up to no good.”

Josie stares at her questioningly. “You’re seriously profiling a window right now?”

  
  


“That’s a bad guy window.”

  
  


They went up the stairs and entered Maya’s office, who was sitting on the edge of her desk, still rubbing her knuckles.

Maya assesses her office. “Rayna, give us the room.”

Rayna looks at Maya, Josie, and Hope, then at the rest of the women in the room with whom she was fixing their hair. “Come on, girls.”

One of them put aside a box filled with drugs and looked at Josie and Hope from head to toe angrily. Hope’s eyes went wide, and she leaned again towards Josie. “That’s a really tiny box with a lot of drugs in it.”

  
  


“It’s fine, Hope. Don’t worry.”

  
  


Once everyone left, Hope crossed her hands again and moved towards the window, watching Josie and Maya’s interaction carefully. If there was any time to fully practice the vow she made to the brunette; it was now.

Josie stood in front of Maya’s desk. The leader took a glance at what she was wearing. “It’s been a minute, Josette. You look… Way better than the last time I saw you.”

The detective closes her eyes shut. She knows exactly which “last time” she was referring to, and it was only sending her in a downward spiral mentally.

Maya looks at Hope, who has her arms crossed and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “She a cop, too?”

Josie ignores her question. “We’re here about Aya. Who killed her?”

A scoff.

  
  


“Does it even matter?” She unbuttons her suit jacket and sits down with her left leg crossed over her right. “Everyone thinks it was me.”

  
  


“I wonder, though, is everyone right? I heard you were her right hand. Moving product, women. I told them that’s not the Maya I knew.”

  
  


She says the last part, trying to hold in her tears. This day has been so tiresome for her, physically and mentally. And right now, it’s truly affecting her mental health. Bipolar Disorder (with psychosis) and PTSD were two bitches hand in hand, taking every opportunity to remind her of the worst memories possible, making her see things that weren’t there, making her believe in what wasn’t real. Unable to differentiate between dreams, between truth and lies. Hypomania. Depression. It was a fun time.

Maya has a smirk on and adjusts her head. “Come on, where’s my sweet girl?” She gets up and moves next to Josie, and touches her hair. The brunette lets her, as if she had transported herself back in time, back when she was Maya’s girl. “The girl that used to party down.”

That made Hope snap.

  
  


“Stop touching her, stop using her as a distraction, and focus on the fucking question Josie asked you.”

  
  


Maya laughs and puts her hand on her hips. “Oh, wow! Josie’s got herself a cop girlfriend.”

Hope leaves her position and stands in front of Maya; her blue eyes focused completely on the leader’s brown eyes. Extending her right arm to cover Josie as much as she could, she coldly confronts Maya. “I said, focus on the question Josie asked you.”

Maya saw that the profiler wasn’t playing around, and left to sit back at her desk. “I had nothing to do with it.” Her hands were visibly shaking, and that’s when Hope knew.

Josie kept going with her good cop/bad cop routine. “People change, Maya. For better or for worse.”

The leader’s face is rigid, her lips quivering. “You forget what I did for you?”

  
  


“That’s why I’m here! I’m trying to help you. But if you don’t tell me the truth, the cops are gonna be all over you, and it’s game over.”

  
  


Maya thinks about the words her ex tells her, looking at anything but the girl in front of her. The detective scoffs. “You got hard.”

  
  


“No, Josie. I grew up. I had to.”

  
  


Hope rolls her eyes. “I have so many questions.”

Maya gives her an angry stare, lifting only her index finger. “And don’t you hear that I’m answering every single one of them?”

  
  


“Don’t worry about it, they’re all for Josie.”

  
  


She stands next to the brunette and just lets it all out. “How do you know this woman, and what happened between you two?” Quite fitting that Hope can profile any stranger normally, but when Josie’s involved and there’s an ex-girlfriend mixed in all of it, she can’t notice a damn thing.

Josie turns to her, concern written all over her face. “What are you doing?”

  
  


“I’m agreeing with you. She’s exhibiting stress reactions that a profiler could spot from space.” Hope says the last part rather excitedly, her pupils dilating and her hands mimicked explosions.

  
  


Maya scoffs, pointing right at the auburn-haired. “Yo, I don’t care who you’re rolling with, I’m not scared, and I didn’t killー”

  
  


“Aya? I know. You’re posturing, pretending to be hard. And I get it. You’re a drug dealer, you have to play the part. Cause drug dealers are scary. The problem is, though, you’re not a killer. Josie has been trying to tell me all day, and I didn’t see it until now.”

  
  


If Josie could smile right now, she would. She liked that Hope could admit out loud when she was wrong.

The detective directs her attention back to Maya, who has already calmed down a bit and has relaxed. “What really happened between you and Aya? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

The leader sighs. “Aya was my friend. I loved her like she was my older sister.” It was at this moment that Maya cried. “Tell your people I didn’t do this.”

Just then, the screams of a woman were heard all over the club, followed by shooting. And they were aiming straight for the window.

Hope’s first instinct wasn’t even to protect herself, rather she uses her body as a shield to throw her and Josie to the ground. “Get down!” she screamed.

Once on the ground, Josie noticed that Maya’s men took her out the back door and kept her safe. She then turned her attention to Hope.

The men finally shot down the whole window, and hit the box of drugs. The profiler inhaled some of it, coughing her lungs out.

The shooters left, prompting Josie to get up. The problem was that Hope couldn’t stop coughing, and that had her worried. She gets down again and grabs onto Hope. “Hope, are you okay? Come on, we have to get out of here. Please.”

Hope’s entire line of vision got blurry, and she passed out briefly.

* * *

A while after, the NYPD stormed the place. The Crime Scene Unit was all over the place, using whatever they could find as evidence and photographing as much of the destroyed club as they could.

Amid all the chaos that was ensuing from the CSU, Stefan was standing in the club's center. He was giving Josie Parker an ultimatum.

  
  


“What the fuck were you thinking?”

  
  


“I knew that Maya would talk to me. I made a call.”

  
  


Hope was standing in between the both of them, only staring at Josie, and to say she looked lost, disoriented, was an understatement.

  
  


“Yeah, before we had a warrant. That wasn’t a call. That is disobeying a direct order. And Machado is now… Where exactly? That’s right, nowhere near her own fucking club.”

  
  


Josie was getting nervous. She knows why Stefan is screaming at her. She knows that what he’s saying is the truth. But her way was the only way that was going to get them answers. “I know what this looks like, but Maya did not kill Aya. She’s in way over her head.”

Hope opened her eyes wide, snapped her fingers, and pointed right at Josie, with a smile on her face. “Josie’s right. She didn’t do this.” She turns to face Stefan, then turns once again to face the detective. “But I have a question. Why is everyone moving in slow motion?”

Stefan moves forward and holds on to Hope’s shoulder. “Are you okay, Mikaelson?”

She grabs his hand and grips it, without moving it from her shoulder. “When my father was arrested, you helped to fill that void. You showed me what a good man looks like. What a good man is.” She put a lot of emphasis on her words. She wanted the lieutenant to know how much he means to her. “You’re like a father to me, Stefan.”

Putting her palm on the side of his face, Stefan then looks towards Josie. “She’s high as a kite.”

That made Hope giggle. “I’m higher than a kite!”

Meanwhile, Josie was trying to hide herself from embarrassment, but also realized how it all happened. “Maya’s stash exploded on her during the gunfire.”

Stefan nods, acknowledging her statement. “Oh.” But then he gets worried. “And you?”

The detective tries to brush it off, make it seem like there was no need for any concern. “What about me? I’m fine.” And it was the truth, the complete truth.

  
  


“Are you sure?”

  
  


“I promise, Stefan.” Josie had her arms crossed and tried to give her words the necessary encouragement of belief that she needed to show her boss.

  
  


He stays staring at her for a moment before he answers her. “Good.”

Hope was staring at the roof and trying to grab the ceiling lights with her hands, looking in amazement. Stefan sees what’s happening and scoffs. “Take her home.”

Josie scorns him slightly. “Are you serious right now? We are in the middle of an─”

  
  


“I know we’re in the middle of an investigation. I don’t need you telling me how the job works, Detective Parker. But if  _ you  _ can’t behave like how a _ cop should _ , then you’re of no use to me. You’re better off babysitting Mikaelson. Go. MG and I have work to do.”

  
  


And with that, Josie grabs Hope, leaving to go to her loft.

* * *

Hope inserts the key into the lock and opens up the door. She doesn’t bother telling Josie much, since she’s already been inside and knows about her pets.

Josie closes the door behind her. “Alright, the best thing you can do for the next seven hours or so is to remain as calm as possible and drink lots of water.”

But Hope had other plans. The auburn-haired got on top of her couch and extended out her arms. “Or, we can throw axes! That would be so much fun, right, Josie?”

Josie blinks rapidly. “I’m sorry,  _ what _ did you say?”

Hope turns around, her eyes are opened wide. “Broad-bladed axes! I have five of them.” She then jumps from the couch and stops talking to think. Hard. “No… Six. Well, it doesn’t really matter, we have plenty of them to throw, you and me.”

As Josie was pouring water, she heard it, loud and clear.

  
  


_ We. _

_ You and me. _

  
  


The glass almost falls out of her hand. What the hell was going on with Hope Mikaelson? The brunette knows that she’s high as fuck, but this was so… Raw. Different. As if this was who Hope has always wanted to be around her.

But Josie needs to stay firm. She needs to take care of the profiler. “No. And that’s my first and final answer.”

Hope closed the case in front of her and turned around, her hands holding her head and mimicking explosions again. “God, this feeling! My-My neurons are  _ ON FIRE _ .” Josie grabs the glass of water and leaves the kitchen area, looking at Hope questioningly. “You know, people say that dopamine triggers pleasure. But  _ REALLY,  _ it’s about…  _ desire _ .”

In a second, Hope engulfs Josie. Her right arm around her waist and her left grabbing Josie’s other hand, she smiles at her. “Want to dance?” The music was playing in the background, a wonderful jazz song complimenting the tone of the night.

Internally, Josie’s heartbeat is out of control, and she is enjoying every second of this. Externally, however, she purses her lips. “Mikaelson, I’m two seconds away from kicking your ass.”

Hope gives her a bit of a signature smile, pulling away so she can then turn her. “And that’s fine, yeah.” Instead of doing the twirl, she stays there, right hand on her hip, thinking of what to tell Josie next. “Answer me this.”

Silence.

Sergeant Oliver looks up from his corner and meows.

  
  


“No. No, lost it. Ah, my short-term memory is just…” She holds her face in her hands.

  
  


“Okay... Why don’t you go throw some water on your face, and I’m going to make you something to eat.”

  
  


Hope drops her hands and points at Josie. “Right. Right. Let’s make… Crumble!” The auburn-haired goes into the kitchen, but Josie stops her before she really gets too into this.

She didn’t need to think that  _ the  _ Hope Mikaelson wanted to  _ cook _ with  _ her _ . Did she? She closes her eyes briefly and calls out to Hope. “Grilled cheese?”

Hope turns around, a sincere expression on her face. “You know, I’m never going to forget this.”

A scoff.

With her hands crossed, Josie gives her a smirk. “I’m sure that you will.”

  
  


“Thank you. For taking care of me.” Hope puts her hand on her chest. “But I swear, I’m never going to forget this. I’m never going to forget this night.” She then brushes her tongue against her teeth and laughs slightly. “I was. I was so jealous tonight. And for what? You’re not mine. Would you ever be, anyway? No. Never.”

  
  


Josie’s eyes went wide. Did she hear all of this right? Is any of this real or not? Was this just a hallucination? It has to be, her medication probably isn’t working again and─

The brunette takes a deep breath and exhales after 10 seconds. She keeps up the routine for a minute or so. Hope, amid the high, grabs onto Josie and brings her in for a hug. “It’s all okay, Jo. I’ll always be here for you, as long as you want and need me around.”

But Hope backs away quickly, stares at Josie wide-eyed, and sits down. “I apologize. I’m out of practice with friends. With…” She chooses her next words carefully. “Companionship.”

Josie sighs. It feels like a miracle that the hug felt so good, and calmed her down. “That’s all right. I… I don’t have a lot of friends, either. I got… Issues with trust. I can’t really go there anymore.”

With those deep ocean blue eyes, the auburn-haired looks right into her. Deep into her soul, as if she could see every single one of her intricacies, her secrets. “I promise, Josie, you can trust me.” Hope grabs onto her hand and intertwines their fingers.

Josie looks at their hands. They’re nice together. The brunette opens her mouth to make a comment just when Hope lets go of her hand and grabs her face, pushing her lips to form an O. Ono chirps loudly, as if he wanted to comment that he was enjoying Hope mingle with Josie.

  
  


“I have Jarlsberg!” Hope lets go of Josie’s face and heads to the fridge. “And I have a particularly stinky Brie de Meaux.” She opens the fridge and looks for both products until she grabs them and closes the fridge once again. “Let’s make grilled cheese together, Josie!”

  
  


Josie grabs the cheeses. “Oh. Okay. Why don’t you go freshen up? I’ll work on the grilled cheese myself.”

  
  


“You got this?”

  
  


“Yeah, I’m on it.”

  
  


Hope bites her lower lip and smiles. “Okay.” She turns around and heads for the bathroom. When Hope closes the door, though, Josie takes a minute to put down the cheese and holds onto the countertop. Hope was intense, and was making her heart erratic. One minute the profiler is telling her she was  _ jealous _ of her interaction with Maya, the next she’s saying she can trust her, another she’s thinking about cheese, and way before all of this, she wanted to  _ dance _ with Josie.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Hope throws some water on her face and looks at herself. She chuckles, because all she can think about is Josie.

But that doesn’t last very long.

As soon as she closes the cabinet, she sees a man with a fishhook through his chest cavity hanging from her shower. Gasping, she turns around to assess the situation at hand. She blinks a few times before she heads to the shower and sees nothing. It was all just a hallucination. 

She gets out of the bathroom and closes the door behind her, getting back outside and walking on her tippy toes. Hope turns to the right and sees Josie working on the grilled cheese with some background music. It looks like Josie was playing “Mack The Knife” by Bobby Darin.

Hope keeps walking, all the way to the steps on her bed, and sits down. She’s panting loudly, her chest feeling as if it’s constricting under a ton of bricks. Josie glances towards the steps and notices. “Mikaelson, you good?”

But Hope doesn’t answer. On the contrary, she hears scratching happening on the top of the stairs. Looking upward, her heart skips a beat and almost falls backward from fear. It was the box.

**_The box._ **

She closes her eyes shut and whispers to herself. “No. No.”

Her hallucinations aren’t giving her a chance at all as she tries her hardest to breathe. The next thing she knows, she hears the chains rattling from her bed. Slowly turning to face the noise itself, she sees the body moving underneath her bedsheets. The same body that was next to her in the pew at church.

She hears the whimpering, the crying, all the noises she heard the night she walked out and thought that she saw the body in the station wagon. “It’s not real.”

The box was no longer at the top of the stairs, rather it was right in front of the steps of her bed. Hope gasps out loud, but Josie couldn’t hear her through the music, even though it’s not that loud. 

Josie glances at her. “Mikaelson, you good?”

But it was no use.

Hope was completely focused on the box, which was now rattling out of control. Images of the girl in the box, all bloody and bruised, flood her mind. The auburn-haired was panting and couldn’t stop. Just then, the hand pulls her back onto the bed and this time, she can’t breathe for real. “Mikaelson?”

Hope fights the hand and rushes to the bathroom, but when she closes the door, she’s no longer in her loft.

Claremont Psychiatric Hospital.

She looks around the place and realizes what’s going on. “Dad?”

It was something much worse. “Not exactly.”

Sitting down in her father’s chair was herself. In her father’s clothes. Flashes of her father appear through her mind, and in every single one of them, he’s got his signature smile.

Hope extends out her right hand and was touching her forehead with her left. “No, this isn’t real. You’re not real. You’re just a hallucination fabricated from my mind from the high because I’m not reacting to it well. That, and lack of sleep.”

The other her laughs. “And yet, here I am.”

The flashes continue to happen. “I’m nestled nicely between your basal ganglia and your cerebellum.” The other her motions with her hands, as if she was making a scale with her hands. One hand the basal ganglia, the other the cerebellum.

She sees her father again. “Hope, my daughter.”

  
  


“Wearing your dad’s cardigan. Nobody ever said the subconscious was subtle.” The other her chuckles and adjusts the cardigan.

  
  


Hope grabs her face again. “I’m just high. I haven’t slept. That’s why this is happening. That’s it.”

She sees Hayley putting her to sleep.

  
  


“Yeah, sure. Would you like some flannel PJs? Perhaps a glass of warm milk?”

  
  


Hope looks at her other self in front of her after putting her hands down, quickly turning around back to the door. But when she did that, it wasn’t her in her elegant suit. It was her in her Whitmore College sweater, back when she visited her father for the last time 10 years ago. Or, what she thought then would be the last time.

Then, everything went backward again. She was back to being that 10-year-old girl, the one that found out her father was a serial killer, the one that called the cops on that same serial killer father. “Let me out of here!”

Back to the real her, back to the her from 10 years ago, on and on and on. Back and forth, back and forth.

  
  


“Stop trying to fight it. Don’t you get it? I’m only trying to show you the truth about yourself.”

  
  


Back to the 10-year-old girl. Or the 11-year-old girl that hadn’t seen her father in a year. It’s hard to tell at this point. That little girl was looking right at Klaus Mikaelson in the face. “They call you a monster.”

Hope is herself again, and she looks at the other her. “You’re a hallucination.”

  
  


“No, I’m your subconscious, your ego. Your id. The Ghost of Christmas Past. Call me whatever you want. JUST STOP IGNORING ME!”

  
  


With that, Hope screams as loud as she can until her lungs give out. Within the confinements of her mind in this obscure hallucination, her face flashes. Current self. 10 years ago. Back to current. But one thing remained a constant, and that was the face of Klaus Mikaelson. Looking at her, a token of his supposed affection.

She snaps out of it, and she sees the other her, the one that calls herself her subconscious. “Buddy, I get it. These nightmares you’re having are rough. Fragments of this, bits of that… Bits of that.  _ That station wagon. _ What did Dad do?”

All the memories. The station wagon. The body at the church. Her father grabbing her, holding her in midair, applying chloroform on her.

  
  


“What did we do?”

  
  


A memory? A figment of her imagination? What is this? She’s a kid again, walks slowly through the hall. Suddenly, she’s screaming bloody murder.

  
  


“What you need is context. Am I right? Something that will help you stitch all of this together.”

  
  


Underneath the bed, her subconscious grabs a red shoebox, filled with stickers and decorations she’s added onto it when she was a kid.

From the outside, she hears Josie calling for her. “Mikaelson?”

With shock all over her expression, she breathes. “I remember that.”

  
  


“After they arrested him, Mom burned all the photos and mementos of dad. Whoosh. Proof of his existence, up in smoke.”

  
  


The memory of his arrest plays far too often, quite too comfortably in her mind.

  
  


“But you hid this box from her.” Her subconscious approaches her, box in hand.

  
  


Hope hears Josie once again. “Mikaelson, you good?”

  
  


“Underneath your childhood bed. Find it. It’ll help.”

  
  


“Mikaelson? Hope, please answer me. Are you okay?”

  
  


She latches onto the box. “Here, so you don’t forget.” Her subconscious grabs a knife from out of nowhere and stabs her.

Back in the real world, Hope was backed up against her shower. “Hope? HOPE!”

The profiler was screaming, and she wouldn’t stop. Josie rushes towards her, grabbing onto her hands. “Relax. Hope, I got you. Calm down. I got you. You’re having a terrible reaction to your high, you’re going to be okay. I got you. I know how this feels like, and I’m going to help you out.”

But Hope can’t stop hyperventilating. Nothing that Josie was trying to accomplish with her to calm her down was working out. She was hyperventilating; she was screaming. So, Josie realized that she had to make a choice.

And…

She punches her.

**End of Part 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you this would be interesting.... but so is the next few chapters so... yeah <3
> 
> twitter: @thekeytoevrythn  
> tumblr: @ao3user-thekeytoeverything


	17. The Trip - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, here's an update! it took me a while to write because I've been pretty busy with school, but I'm pretty proud of what's in this chapter. i don't know when the next update is going to happen, as I have also been working on other wips of mine, but hopefully will be up in the next two weeks or so.
> 
> tw / mention of alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of selling alcohol and drugs, guns, mention of human trafficking, blades, implications of mental health throughout
> 
> here's a playlist i made for the fic!: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2vpfohJU8w5oXVlXfbM6rh?si=XFzIjnRbSPeHKvxvbcEGQA

Profiler (ˈprōˌfīlər; noun): a person who records and analyzes someone’s psychological and behavioral characteristics, to assess or predict their capabilities or to assist in identifying categories of people

Profilers look at a scene and can tell you the personality of the person who committed the crime. They help explain the motivation behind the crime. Most people enter this profession due to the popularity of it in movies and tv shows.

Hope Mikaelson is a profiler but didn’t enter the profession for the same reasons many others did. She became a profiler because of personal motivation. She became a profiler because of Niklaus Mikaelson, often described as “The Great Evil,” known as The Surgeon ー her father.

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Trip Part 3**

Josie  _ really _ did a number on Hope.

As soon as she punched Hope, it was an immediate knockout.

An immediate knock out that hurt Josie’s hand in the process. She shakes her hand lightly, wincing at the pain.

The next day, Josie wakes up with an unbearable headache to the sound of Hope making coffee.

  
  


“Morning, Josie! Coffee?”

  
  


The brunette looks up at Hope, giving her a weary reply. “I’m good.”

The auburn-haired doesn’t know what else to do or say, and it was obvious. Hope shrugs, holding the coffeepot. “How did you sleep?”

Josie looks around the kitchen and lets out a chuckle. “Are you serious, Hope? I slept on a kitchen counter.”

  
  


“Fair enough.”

  
  


Hope pours coffee into her mug and grimaces. “Why is my jaw killing me?”

Josie hides her face behind her hand, closing her eyes. After a couple of seconds, she puts her hand down and opens one eye. “Well, I may or may not have punched you….”

Hope looks at her and laughs. “Thanks for that, it worked. I slept 5 hours. I think I should have you knock me out every night at this point.” Without skipping a beat, she hands Josie the coffee mug. An awkward silence hangs between them.

The women didn’t speak, didn’t look at each other. All the while they were pursing their lips. But Hope broke the silence first. “I can tell that last night was hard for you. Seeing Maya.”

Josie let out a long sigh and stretched out. “What was it like when you first met her?”

Truth be told, this was the last conversation that she wanted to have at the moment. But, she figures it's better to release some of this pent up frustration towards the situation outward than keeping it in. So, she thinks of a way to start the story. “When I was undercover, I had infiltrated Aya’s crew.”

Hope drinks some of her coffee. “You were a hostess girl?”

Josie looks at the profiler’s expression for a bit before nodding. “We would sell drinks, drugs. You can guess how that went.”

Hope nods.

  
  


“Most of the girls that worked with me, they came from Haiti, a big move to the States they made after the earthquake. I was able to get closer to her and gather evidence. But then, everything went sideways.”

  
  


The auburn-haired puts the mug down and looks at Josie. “You’re saying Maya made you.”

It was Josie’s turn to nod.

  
  


“We got… Way too close.” Hope looks away for a moment, away from her mug, away from Josie. The memories of last night resurfacing.

  
  


_ “Come on, where’s my sweet girl?” Maya had gotten up and moved next to Josie, and touched her hair. _

_ Josie let her. _

_ Josie. _

_ Let. _

_ Her. _

_ “The girl that used to party down.” _

_ And that made Hope snap. _

_ “Stop touching her, stop using her as a distraction, and focus on the fucking question Josie asked you.” _

_ Maya had laughed and put her hand on her hips. “Oh, wow! Josie’s got herself a cop girlfriend.” _

_ Hope had left her position and stood in front of Maya, her blue eyes had focused completely on the leader’s brown eyes. She covered Josie as much as she could and coldly confronted Maya. “I said, focus on the question Josie asked you.” _

  
  


She snaps out of it and looks back at Josie, letting her finish the rest of what she had to say. The brunette noticed, however, and she knew it had to do with what happened last night. Hope isn’t the only one with memories playing like a film in her mind. Josie remembers the profiler’s words from last night so vividly as well, mostly because they had been playing like a loop in her head.

  
  


_ “Thank you. For taking care of me. But I swear, I’m never going to forget this. I’m never going to forget this night. I was... I was so jealous tonight. And for what? You’re not mine. Would you ever be, anyway? No. Never.” _

  
  


God, was Hope so wrong.

Josie shakes her head, rubbing her forehead slightly. “Maya kept everything a secret, though. She told no one that I was a cop. And then, she saved me.”

Hope just stares at Josie. She understands what the other woman is trying to tell her. An overdose. “I thought that, by getting into doing drugs, it would make me extra qualified. But all it did was make me extra stupid.”

She grabs Josie’s hand. “Don’t say that.” But all the brunette can do is look at Hope’s hand. How nice it looked. “When I hit the bottom, Maya was the only person in Aya’s crew that cared about me. She was the one who took me to the hospital, Hope. It’s the reason I think she wasn’t the one that did this. If it wasn’t for her, I would be dead right now.”

Hope understood then the importance of Maya’s role in Josie’s life, and it made her question if that was how love felt like. Romantic or platonic alike, though she’d like to think she understands what familial love is like. Putting your entire world at risk in order to make sure the one thing you care about stays alive. She remembers the promise she made to Josie. Was that promise part of love? And how do her mother’s thoughts of her intimacy issues fit in? What if she had intimacy issues with other people, but it just felt easier to open up to Josie?

She stares at their hands and then drifts back into her thoughts again. Although Maya was no longer in Josie’s life…. Maybe it did. Maybe that’s what love was all about. She wonders if she would ever know what love meant. She knew all too well that she still had a lot to learn about love. But, that didn’t mean that she deserved it. She’s fucked up. That was the harsh reality of it all.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Stefan was sitting at his desk, writing some important information about the case to put it all together for himself.

Just then, he heard a knock on the door and motions for the person on the other side to come in.

Josie walks in and closes the door behind her. “Morning, Parker.”

  
  


“Morning.”

  
  


She walks to the seats in front of his desk and sits on the left chair. Once she sits down, he asks the question she knew he would. “Is our girl back to normal?”

  
  


“Yeah, her version of it.”

  
  


A silence.

  
  


“Listen, Stefan, I─”

  
  


He raises his hand, motioning for her to stop. “I know what Maya has done for you. And I can understand that for these reasons, you wanted to protect her, butー”

  
  


“She’s a suspect. And I shouldn’t have broken the rank. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  
  


He rolls his eyes and gives her a smile. “How about this, you tell me anything new you have on the case after this conversation and we can just forget what happened?’

The detective nods, reciprocating the smile. “We think Jesse was behind the shooting that happened at the club. MG is running down everything on his crew.”

Josie has a serious expression on her face. “And how do you know it’s Jesse?”

  
  


“We caught one of Maya’s hostesses leaving the club with a semiautomatic. We traced it back to the Dominicans.”

  
  


She cautiously looks at Stefan, all traces of that previous promise having gone out the door. “Okay. Let me talk to her.”

But Stefan surprised her.

* * *

At the Mikaelson Townhouse, Lizzie and Hayley were sitting at the dining room table. Hayley was writing a check, finished signing it, and handed it to Lizzie.

Lizzie grabs the check. “Thank you so much, Ms. Marshall. You are incredibly generous.”

The brunette laughs. “Please, no need for the formalities. It’s Hayley.”

A pause. Hayley thinks about her conversation with Hope, and how she shouldn’t be so “cloak and dagger,” as she so puts it, with her donations. But, she gets insecure when she thinks about how much the Mikaelson name has ruined New York.

  
  


“Maybe it’s best if we just.. Make my contribution anonymous. The Mikaelson and, unfortunately by extension, Marshall names don’t exactly scream ‘victim’s rights’.”

  
  


Lizzie stares at her wide-eyed. It was more of a feeling of surprise than anything else. Of course, the Mikaelson name didn’t scream “victim’s rights,” a Mikaelson was the one who─

She snapped out of her thoughts. “Iー I think we can accommodate that.”

Hayley chuckles. “I have to ask, Lizzie… Do you know anything about what’s going on between my daughter and your sister?”

The attorney looks at her questioningly, laughing slightly. “No, not exactly. From what Josie has told me, they’re partners in the cases they have together. But, nothing else.” She wasn’t about to tell the Marshall heir that Josie had told her about the cases involving Hope, her sister was rather careful that she would say nothing personal about the profiler or the case, and that’s how she could tell her sister had a massive crush on The Surgeon’s, The Great Evil’s daughter. If only Hayley knew about the Parker familyー

  
  


“Right, right. Just curious, you know. I want the best for my daughter. And I just need to know who your sister is a little more if there’s going to be… Something more here, between the two of them.”

  
  


“Of couー”

  
  


“Mom, I’m back! Don’t worry, I’m not after your barbiturates.”

  
  


Hope opens the door to the dining room and stares at the scene in front of her.

Hayley looks at her daughter and motions towards Lizzie. “I have company, Hope.”

The auburn-haired takes a peek at who was next to her mother. “Oh. Hi.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Hi, Hope. You don’t know me, but I know exactly who you are. I’m Josie’s sister. Lizzie.”

Hope observes the blonde. Well dressed. Means business. Straightforward. And also Josie’s sister. That was the part that sent her into a panic. “I─ I did not know that Josie had a sister.” She walks closer to the table, standing right next to her mother.

Lizzie laughs. “Not surprising that you didn’t know. My sister is… A little closed off. Which is fine, that’s just who she is. We’re twins. Fraternal. Obviously.”

The attorney looked fixedly. Could it be that Hope Mikaelson  _ really _ had a crush on her sister? Hope was slightly panicking since the moment Lizzie had mentioned her sister. There’s no way that this isn’t because of Josie. She was thinking about it for a while now, but this only confirms things. She thinks she’s just hit the jackpot of all jackpots. Two clueless gay people. Not surprising, given that one half of the clueless duo is her sister.

Maybe she’ll meddle into things after all.

Hope wonders why the blonde has such a pensive expression on her face. But, she doesn’t want to think too much into it. “Well, I should get going. I’m just here to grab something from upstairs. Just a box of old stuff that I kept under my bed. You know, the usual thing.. Pictures, two-dollar bill. Special memories.”

Hayley watches her daughter walk away from the table. “Honey, what old stuff are you talking about? And are these old stuff….” She looks at Lizzie from the corner of her eye and thinks of the words she wants to say next. “Things you want to remember?”

The profiler turns around after a few seconds and raises her hands slightly. “Long story short, a good amount of drugs exploded in my face last night.”

The Marshall heir sighs and puts her hand on her forehead while Lizzie chuckles. Deep down, the only reason the attorney was laughing was because she heard of  _ everything _ that happened  _ after _ from Josie and the intensely seething panic that it gave her sister, which she found hilarious. The phone call surfaced into her mind.

  
  


_ Josie had left Hope’s loft and was headed to her place to change into her work clothes and get to the station. _

_ Once she got to her car, however, she felt the need to call Lizzie and let her know about what had happened. _

_ Lizzie picked up on the second ring. “Josie, good morning to you.” _

  
  


_ “Morning, Lizzie. You wouldn’t believe the night that I’ve had.” _

  
  


_ “I can take one guess: it had everything to do with your girlfriend.” _

  
  


_ Josie rolls her eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend, Lizzie.” _

_ The blonde laughs. “Yeah, because you’re a literal coward.” _

_ Josie ignores her sister and tells her everything, gay panic clear as day in her voice to her sister. _

_ Lizzie sighs. “Phew, she’s got it bad.” _

_ The brunette raises her eyebrow, as if Lizzie could see her. “What do you mean?” _

  
  


_ “Josie, you are so fucking clueless. Hope Mikaelson has a crush on you, too. How is this not obvious to you?” _

  
  


_ “Because she doesn’t? She probably said that because she knows how I feel about her. Or something.” _

  
  


_ But then, Josie thinks to ask her sister how she did it. “Lizzie, how did you ask out Jade? Didn’t it intimidate you that she’s related to my boss?” _

_ And that was the start of a  _ **_very long_ ** _ conversation. _

  
  


Lizzie shakes her head out of her memories and focuses back on the profiler. “It just led to a revelation, a breakthrough of sorts.”

Hayley crosses her hands, thinking once again of how to frame things, since Lizzie was right in front of them. “Sweetie, if there were a shoebox that contained these ‘special memories’ related to your father─”

Hope raised her index finger and walked once again towards the table. “I never said it was a shoebox, mom.”

And there it was. She was back to questioning her mother. It was the last thing that she wanted, and yet that insecurity has come crawling back.

Hayley looks at the way her daughter looks at her. She’s messed up again, mentioning that it was a shoebox. Now, she knows her daughter is figuring out everything in her mind. There’s no use in trying to cover up anything. “Whatever kind of box that it is, it’s up the chimney with the rest of his things.”

The profiler nods her head and hums. “Thank you.” She looks towards Lizzie. “I’m really sorry for the interruption… I’ll let you and my mother carry on with your conversation.” 

  
  


“No worries, Hope. It was a pleasure to finally meet the girl my sister has told me so much about.” Lizzie gives her best smile, because meddling into this is going to be the most fun she’s had in a while.

  
  


Hope stood dumbfounded by Lizzie’s remark. Josie talks about her? She knew the brunette would say nothing personal, but it still shocked her. And that was her cue to leave before she imagined everything that Josie could have said about her.

But she wasn’t able to escape.

  
  


“Lizzie is fighting global human trafficking. I’m going to give her all of our money.” Hayley thought that this would be a great way to tell her daughter about her charity work.

  
  


Hope purses her lips. “Thank goodness.”

The attorney smiles. “And you’re doing law enforcement.”

Hayley rolls her eyes. “Let’s not dwell too much on that.”

  
  


“Yeah,” Hope scoffs. “It’s just boring office work, anyway.”

  
  


Lizzie opens her eyes wide. “A boring office job with exploding drugs? I don’t know, that sounds kinda fun to me.” Of course, Lizzie knew that Hope was lying for the sake of whatever is going on in this room right now, but even then, she didn’t know everything that Hope and her sister did in these cases.

Hope shrugs while touching her left sleeves. “Well, it’s not always boring office work.”

All Lizzie could do was raise her eyebrow and nod, while Hayley sat there looking at their interaction.

Could Lizzie be into her daughter as well? An interesting twist of events.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Josie was walking into the interrogation room. The woman that she wanted to talk to was waiting for her. She closed the door. “Hey.”

  
  


“Hey, I remember you. From the club.”

  
  


Josie sits in front of her. “Mhm.”

  
  


“You a cop now?”

  
  


The detective purses her lips. “I was a cop then.”

The woman shrugs, but wasn’t even a bit surprised. “You had me fooled, then.”

Josie nods her head. “What happened to Maya after I left? H-How did she get dragged into this?”

The woman sighs. “Aya got to her. Then Maya started making actual money, but her heart wasn’t in it.”

Josie looks at her rather questioningly. “Then why did she stay?”

  
  


“Mohinder. A trusted source of Aya’s that was working with us. He was amazing. He was pretty. He did hair better than many other women that used to work with us. She cared about him like he was her brother.”

  
  


The brunette shook her head. “What happened to him?”

The woman couldn’t give a proper response.

* * *

Josie was in her car, parked in one of those parallel parking spots, right in front of the salon where Mohinder worked at. And owned.

Just then, the passenger door opens, and in comes Hope. “What did you find out?”

  
  


“Maya cared for one of Aya’s trusted sources. Mohinder.”

  
  


Hope slowly nodded her head. “Let me guess. Aya didn’t like that, at all.”

  
  


“Maya begged her. Begged her to have him with her instead of staying with Aya. But Aya didn’t take this sort of rejection very well and sent Mohinder to mule heroin. The balloon burst, and he died.”

  
  


The detective was close to tears. And all Hope wanted to do was make sure that she was okay. Some way. Hope put her head down and let out a sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

  
  


“I knew it. Maya wouldn’t kill for turf or product.” Josie kept staring out the window, because imagining herself anywhere but in that car was enough for a distraction from this conversation. Everything about this sucked, and all she wishes is to have saved Mohinder.

  
  


Little did she know, Hope was looking right at her. Or, was it through her? Hope felt her pain, and it was as if she understood it herself. Was this how it felt when you cared for someone? The profiler begins to open her mouth. “This was all about family. Found family.”

Josie points ahead of her. “Check the awning of the salon.” Hope looked with her, where the awning said, “Mohinder’s Hair Salon.”

  
  


“Mohinder had a thing for hair.”

  
  


It was all clicking into place for Hope. “She bought it for him. Solid profile.”

Josie turns her head. “I only learned from the best.”

Hope chuckles. “Thanks.”

The detective raises her eyebrow and looks at Hope questioningly. “Sorry, but I meant Stefan.”

  
  


“Oh.” Hope puts her head down and laughs.

  
  


Josie couldn’t help but smile. “He used to tell me often that police work was all about being patient. He and MG are pulling up a warrant as quickly as they can.”

Hope hadn’t stopped laughing, though. Josie had her arm resting on the interior of the car door, her head positioned on her hand and curiously looking at the woman next to her. “Can I ask why you’re laughing?”

The auburn-haired coughed, brushing her index finger over her upper lip, fixedly staring ahead. **_So that’s what Hope does when she’s really happy_ ** , thought Josie to herself.

  
  


“Stefan used to tell me the same thing when I was younger. When he was really bored on a stakeout. That police work was all about patience.”

  
  


It was Josie’s turn to laugh. “You used to go with him on stakeouts? Isn’t that… Interesting?”

Hope rolled her eyes. “Yeah, one would say that my childhood was rather weird. But, I don’t really see it.”

She turns to look at Josie, who was staring at her with a smile on her face. “What’s up?”

  
  


“I just always thought that we somehow were different. Cause our lives, how we came to be who we are today, were just drastically different. But, I think we might be similar. Stefan saved us both, Hope.”

  
  


All Hope could do was stare in awe. And that was all Josie could do as well. Without even realizing it, Hope goes for Josie’s hand. But the detective noticed something from the corner of her eye. Next to the salon, a car was coming into view. Out came the woman that was at the club, who led out all the girls from Maya’s office. “Hold on, I got a mark. That’s Rayna. She’s the one who takes care of all the hostesses.”

  
  


Hope retracts her hand away quickly and looks towards where Josie was staring at. “Well, it looks like she’s going to be taking care of someone else.”

Immediately, the detective grabs her phone, going through her contacts for the right number. “Stefan, it’s Josie. I think I have Maya. She’s at 624 Glenwood Road. Meet Hope and me here.”

Josie hangs up. Hope had not stopped staring at the salon. “I think you should wait for backup.”

The brunette grabs her arm. “Maya would never hurt me, Hope. Trust me.”

Hope looks at the hand and back to Josie’s face again. “I know that now. But I don’t think you should go in there alone.”

She watches Josie carefully, with a serious expression on her face. Slowly, she catches herself drifting into her earlier thoughts: Is this what romantic or platonic love was supposed to feel like? Putting your entire life at risk in order to make sure the one thing you care about stays alive? Was her promise romantic or platonic? Or is this just how she’s supposed to express her emotions for a friend? Could Josie be  _ just _ a friend if she wanted  _ more _ than that? She thinks she understands that she doesn’t feel that way romantically for Josie, but she’s still unsure about how she feels for the detective platonically.

Boy, did she have a lot to figure out and unpack here.

Josie was staring at her with the same intensity, but looked away, for fear of what Hope might say. “I’m sorry, but I think I do.” She opens the car door and walks towards the salon.

Hope was right after her, not letting her get out of her sight.

* * *

Josie opens the salon door. “Maya.”

She made a turn and there was Maya in the chair, getting her haircut from Rayna. “We don’t take walk-ins, Josie.”

But when Maya saw that Hope was there, her expression went from serious to mischievous. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fancy dressing cop girlfriend that Josie’s got now, wrapped all around her little finger.”

Hope stammers and blushes. All the while, Josie was blushing herself. But she interjects then. “We’re not girlfriends, Maya. Fess up, we know about Mohinder.”

Maya touches her lips with her index finger. “Mohinder is dead. I bought this whole thing for him. It was his fucking dream. To have this shop, cut hair, have kids. He was my brother and now he’s dead.”

She takes a pause and resumes again. “I used to have big dreams. And then, I met Mohinder. And all I wanted to do was make his dreams come true. Just like how I would have risked everything for you just to make you happy.”

Hope got angry, but she knew she was on a case and would not let this anger get the best of her. She walks, slowly but surely, towards the side, inspecting the material of the salon cape. Josie crosses her arms, looks away briefly. “But you knew Aya would not let him go, Maya. She killed him, so you killed her. Didn’t you?”

Maya puts her hand into a fist. “No. She had made a mistake, but I would never have done that to her. She was like family to me, too. You know this, Josie. I didn’t kill her. I couldn’t kill anyone.”

Tear streaks filled her face. Josie walked towards the leader. “Do you think I want this, Maya? Do you really think I want to bring you in? I don’t. But, just as you made your choice, I’m making a choice and─”

  
  


“These are waterproof.” Everyone in the room stared at Hope. Josie was the first one to question her. “What are you talking about?”

  
  


Hope had not let go of the material just yet. She was still holding the salon cape with her right hand, but she focused on Josie’s question. “I mean exactly that. They’re waterproof. Aya’s chest ─ her chest was clean of blood because she was wearing an outer layer when her throat was cut. Josie, she was wearing one of these.”

A silent acknowledgment passed between them, and they both turned to look at Maya. Hope walks forward, stopping right in front of Maya. She looks at the instruments that Rayna had and the pictures that were placed on the mirror. “Where did Mohinder learn to cut hair? It’s a skill. Who taught him?”

Maya sighs. “He told me it was his mother, back home. I never met her.”

But Hope knew something was wrong here. She looks at a photo in particular, of a lady who looked fairly similar to Rayna. She grabs it to inspect it closer. Scoffing, she unfolds the picture and shows it to Maya. In the photograph was Rayna with Mohinder. “Sorry, but you’re wrong. You already met her.”

Everything went in fast motion then. Rayna grabbed the straight razor that she uses on her male clients and held it right on Maya’s neck. Josie immediately grabbed her gun, cocked it, and pointed right at Rayna. “Don’t you dare fucking move, drop it. Drop it right now!”

Hope had stayed looking at Rayna. “Don’t move, Maya. Meet Rayna, Mohinder’s mother.”

Maintaining the gun firmly pointed, Josie speaks up, even though she’s scared. “Don’t do it, Rayna, it’s not worth it.”

Maya shifts her head slightly to try and look at the woman. “Rayna, what the hell did you do?!”

The profiler was walking closer, and Josie was feeling more compromised about the situation. Here Hope was again, about to get into some sort of trouble and possibly end up physically hurt.

  
  


“You cut Aya’s hair, too. She was wearing one of these when you slit her throat. You caught the blood as you took out her tongue.” The words felt unreal coming out of Hope’s mouth. She wasn’t surprised because of what she was saying, she was more surprised because Rayna supposedly did this out of love. Was this part of what love was all about?

  
  


No. She knew that much, for sure.

Rayna pressed the straight razor a little more against Maya’s neck. It was at the point of cutting her skin and letting the blood flow. “You don’t understand. Aya put Mohinder on that plane, she put my baby on that plane.”

It was an intense staredown between Hope and Rayna, until Maya spoke again. “None of this was my fault.”

Rayna scoffed. “You speak so much of how my son was like a brother to you, and then you didn’t even stop Aya. This has everything to do with you, too. Because now I have nothing of my son, not even a grave, for my love!.”

Hope stood there, Josie behind her, and Maya and Rayna in front of her, conflicted. On one hand, all she wanted was to know where Mohinder’s body was. On the other, she wanted to give Rayna a piece of her mind.

What if she did both?

  
  


“You didn’t love him enough. I may have yet a lot to learn about what love even is, but I know that murder isn’t involved in it, that’s definitely one thing I have learned. I know way too much about murder, as a profiler. You did your son an injustice because justice for someone you love isn’t putting matters into your own hands, Rayna.”

  
  


Just then, Josie lowered her gun slightly, mostly because she had noticed that Rayna was slowly losing her grip on the razor. Hope’s words were affecting Rayna deep down, and was beginning to accept it as truth. “Where is Mohinder, Maya?” Josie asked her, her attention fully on the expression of the leader.

  
  


“His body? I think Aya left him in the Meadowlands…”

  
  


Rayna looks at Maya, tears streaking down her face. Josie takes a step forward, bracing herself for any action on Rayna’s part. “Rayna, listen to me. She knows where Mohinder’s body is. If you kill her, you will never see his body ever again. That secret will go with Maya, and you’ll go to prison. But, if you let her go, I promise you that I will help you find your son. He can finally rest in peace. Think about it. Think about what Hope just told you, Rayna. Let Maya go. This isn’t worth it.”

Tires screeched outside, prompting Hope to run to the window. She pulls down the blinds and sees that there’s two Cadillac Escalades parked right outside, on the other side of the street. “Is it backup?” Josie asked her without taking her eyes off Maya and Rayna.

  
  


“No, pretty sure they’re Jesse’s men.”

  
  


Maya cries out. “They found me. They’re here to kill me, too. You might as well do it, Rayna.”

Josie grunts. “Shut the fuck up, Maya.”

Hope interjected then. “Rayna, you tell us. What do you think?” And Josie continued the sentence for her. “What’s more important, your ideas of revenge or finding peace for your son?”

Rayna is presented with a hard truth, as she buries the razor into Maya’s neck and blood pools underneath her fingers, the leader screaming out.

* * *

Inside one of the Cadillacs, a mack was cocking his semi-automatic. Jesse was next to them, but his sight was on the salon. “First person to walk out that door.”

But the moment the salon door opens, Josie walks out. She goes down the small steps of stairs. The man rolls down the window softly and points the semi-automatic at her. Jesse stops him, putting his hand on the man’s arm. “Not her. She’s a cop.”

Josie walks to Jesse’s window, which he was already rolling down. He smiles at her. “Detective Parker, isn’t it?”

  
  


“What are you doing here, Jesse?”

  
  


His smile remains. “Just doing a social call. And what brings  _ you _ to this fine corner of Flatbush? Are you here to see Maya?”

Josie didn’t respond. Her face remained hard, serious. But Jesse was no fool, he noticed immediately the specks of blood on the left side of her neck. “She’s dead. Killed by the same hairdresser that did the deed to Aya. Her son died moving product on a plane. I guess it was just a plot for revenge. Brutal stuff.”

In the distance, police sirens were getting closer to the salon. As they turned the corner, Jesse lowered his head and avoided contact with Josie. The detective puts on a sly smile. “Want to make a statement?”

  
  


“No. I think it’s time we left, Detective Parker. It’s getting pretty late. See you around.”

  
  


Josie kept her sly smile on. “For your sake, you better start hoping that you don’t.”

Jesse paid no attention to her statement and pulled up the window. “Let’s get out of here.”

And with that, both Cadillacs left the scene, not a single trail of blood left in their place.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Josie and Maya were in the interrogation room, a map in front of them.

Josie was sitting on the table itself while Maya was standing in front of the map. She observes the leader, her right hand just fixed on her chin. “Is he really buried in the Meadowlands?”

Maya looks specifically on the map for several minutes before giving a proper answer. “Yes, you’ll find him right here.” She points to the location on the map. Maya then turns to look at Josie. “You’re really gonna get him a proper burial?”

Josie observes the look on Maya’s face. “Rayna most likely will be headed to jail, but I made a promise. I keep my promises. Her son is going to get a proper burial.”

An awkward silence passes between the both of them.

Josie clears her throat. “Okay, Jesse thinks you’re dead. You need to stay that way. This is your chance to get out, getting away from that life and living your life how you want to.”

Maya nods her head. “You really put everything behind you, huh?”

They stare at each other for a few minutes. “Yes, I really did. But, now it’s your turn, Maya. Go live out the dream you always told me about.” She says the last sentence sort of like a whisper, but she knew that Maya would know exactly what she was talking about.

The leader suddenly remembers the days when they were together, always telling Josie about the fantasy she had of living on an island. An island where she could spend her days walking on the beach and feeling the sand on her toes. She shakes her head out of her thoughts and chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right. Bye Josie.” She hugs the detective one last time and sets off away from the precinct.

Leaving a sighing Josie, thinking about the past.

But not for long.

  
  


“I’ve got a peace offering for you. Freshly brewed Earl Grey tea. I hope you like it.”

  
  


Hope Mikaelson stood at the door of the interrogation room, two cups in her hands, a bright smile on her face. For once, it wasn’t a completely fake smile. Josie looks at her, smiles, and rolls her eyes, motioning for the auburn-haired to come in. “How d'you know I liked Earl Grey?”

The profiler laughs, walking in and sitting on the table next to Josie and handing her a cup. “I actually didn’t, I was just in the mood for tea and after that conversation with Maya, I thought you could use some, too.”

Josie grabs the cup, drinking some of it. “Thank you.” It was barely above a whisper, said so gently. Hope realized something was wrong.

  
  


“Okay, friend, what’s going on? You saved Maya, you caught the killer, you’re gonna do the right thing by Mohinder and give him the burial that he deserves. Why aren’t you celebrating this?”

  
  


The brunette sighs. “They took me out in August. Mohinder met Aya and Maya in October of that same year, 2039.”

Hope looks at Josie sadly. “You were doing narcotics. You weren’t there as a social worker. There’s nothing that you could have done.”

Josie stares back with the same expression. “I guess we’ll never know, right?”

They look away from each other. Josie stares ahead. “I’m sorry, this is just difficult for me to talk about. The narcotics case really messed me up. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that… You’re not the only one that has mental health issues and I think that the part that kills me the most is that I could have done something, but because it’s something that will never be known...” She says it out into the void, not really expecting an answer from Hope. She turns to face Hope again, this time expecting an answer from her. “What would Freud say to that, pre─ I mean, friend.”

Hope ignores that, doesn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that Josie almost called her something that wasn’t platonic. Or, at least, that’s what she thinks almost happened. But she knows that she’ll spend a good part of the night trying to figure it out. “He would say that unresolved conflicts tend to manifest themselves in dreams, because a representation of the real problem in a dream would be sufficiently less damaging than processing it in real life and─”

She stops, noticing that Josie is smiling, about to burst out laughing. “Well, he’d also say ‘drink more tea’. With friends.”

The profiler sighs. “Josie, don’t beat yourself up for this. I know just as well as you that being mentally ill isn’t a walk in the park. It’s something that drains you, it makes you wonder if you’re worthy of anything. But it doesn’t mean that we can’t work on checking on each other and being better mentally together, you and I.”

They clink cups, neither one of them daring to say anything else, neither one of them questioning the pushing of the word “friend.” Just the two of them, enjoying one another’s company, drinking Earl Grey tea.

Hope Mikaelson suddenly has everything click into place, figuring out  _ most _ of what she was thinking about earlier.

She definitely wants the detective as a friend. She for sure wants more. She also knows she would do anything to keep her promise with Josie, make sure she would be  _ safe _ . But she also knew three other things. One, she needs to learn more about what love is and discern more her feelings. Two, her C-PTSD, therapy. Need she think about that more? And, three.

She didn’t deserve Josie.

* * *

Hope was headed towards the Mikaelson Townhouse. She was determined to find the shoebox that she kept all her things in. The whole trip over, she was analyzing what Josie was about to call her before she changed to “friend.” 

She makes it to her family home and knocks on the door. Not even a minute later, Hayley was at the door, hiding behind the frame. “Hi, honey. What are you doing here? I thought you had work tonight.”

Hope raises her eyebrow. Odd… “I’m here so I can get the shoebox. I wasn’t able to last time, since you, Lizzie, and I were talking.”

Hayley touches her own forehead. “Of course, sweetie. Let me get it for you.”

  
  


“Why can’t I come in?”

  
  


“I’ll be really quick, don’t worry.”

  
  


Hope saw that her mother ran and found her behavior a little weird and erratic, second time now. So, she logically does what her mother didn’t want her to do.

She heads inside. “Mom? Where’d you go off to?”

She keeps walking, opening the door, and entering a state of shock when she arrives at the dining room.

Aurora de Martel and Elijah Mikaelson.

Her resentment and fear for the two people in front of her coming in waves, she grips onto the dining room door tightly. If her insecurity about her mother wasn’t all that present earlier today when Lizzie was here, it was definitely in full swing now.

All Hayley can do is hold the shoebox and watch everything unfold.

**End of Part** **3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.... that ending, huh... teehee!
> 
> twitter: @thekeytoevrythn  
> tumblr: @ao3user-thekeytoeverything  
> (social media is the best way to keep up with me, just saying!)


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